


The Queen is Dead

by tptplayer5701



Series: "Mind Games"-verse [16]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Akumatized Chloé Bourgeois, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butterfly Miraculous, Butterfly Sabrina Raincomprix, Character Death?, Female Friendship, Fox Alya Césaire | Rena Rouge, Friends to Lovers, Horse Max Kanté | Pegasus, Hurt/Comfort, Miraculous Holder Sabrina Raincomprix, Peacock Miraculous, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Sentimonster (Miraculous Ladybug), Stolen Miraculouses (Miraculous Ladybug), Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tptplayer5701/pseuds/tptplayer5701
Summary: A "Mind Games"-verse "Spring Break" story"Have you seen Chloe lately? She was just going to pop in here for a minute…”“No,” Mayor Bourgeois answered, frowning. “Actually, I haven’t seen her since she left for school yesterday morning. She said your movie night went late so she was staying at your apartment for the night. Why?”“Oh, you know Chloe.” Sabrina laughed shrilly. Nooroo started beating his wings against her collarbone in agitation. “She’s probably just taking forever to get ready. Or else she decided to play a prank and take the express route to the ground … You know, that’s probably what it is. I’ll go check outside for her.” With that she turned on her heel and walked out of the hotel. “Max, we might have a problem here. Can you track Chloe’s phone?”“The last location her cell phone was active was… the Agreste Fashion House building, during yesterday’s press conference. After she transformed, the signal stopped and it has not resumed. Her miraculous location tracker is also inactive, so she is not transformed.”“So we don’t know where Chloe is,” Sabrina stated, “and no one has seen her since yesterday. And she was transformed at the time. We’ve definitely got a problem."
Relationships: Alya Césaire & Sabrina Raincomprix, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Chloé Bourgeois & Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois & Sabrina Raincomprix, Max Kanté & Sabrina Raincomprix, Max Kanté/Sabrina Raincomprix
Series: "Mind Games"-verse [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666807
Comments: 41
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story picks up around the same time as “Purity and Corruption” chapter 4. This is where all of the previous stories in the “Mind Games”-verse “Spring Break” have been building to (partway through writing I realized that I constructed this whole thing very similarly to a comic book crossover event, complete with side stories and prequels all building into the main story). In addition to this story, there are also a few one-shots collected together in “The Queen is Dead: Mission Logs” which will be published the same day as the chapters they fit into.

Sabrina woke up a little later than usual the day after the press conference. She looked over to see that Nooroo was already awake and working his way through a scone from the bag Marinette had given her the previous afternoon as a thank you. She sat up slowly and fumbled around on the nightstand for her glasses, stretching as she did so to relieve the ache in her neck. Usually she only used her miraculous to sense emotions passively – sometimes that led to her becoming overwhelmed when an emotion spiked out of nowhere. Concentrating on the ability – whether transformed or un-transformed – did enable her to sense more minor nuances in emotions, but it came with a price. The headache she’d woken up with was usually the worst of it, and was nothing that a cup of tea or coffee couldn’t fix.

“I hope Hawk Moth had to deal with these headaches, too,” she grumbled at Nooroo. “At least if he did, it would be _some_ form of karma!”

Nooroo shook his head and frowned apologetically. “While he did receive headaches after his first couple uses, he adjusted to his abilities very quickly,” he replied, his antennae drooping. “Older holders adapt much more quickly, you see. I am sorry, Mistress. I wish this did not happen to you.”

Sabrina shrugged. “It’s gotten a lot better lately,” she admitted, pulling on a sweatshirt before going in search of tea. “At least it only happens when I’m really trying to concentrate on sensing _all_ the emotions around me, instead of happening all the time. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with this every day.”

“Being a hero _re_ acting to events around you, most of the time you do not need to focus on it so much,” Nooroo observed, slipping into the sweatshirt’s hood. “You can simply allow it to happen passively. With time and practice it will become easier to access your abilities, at which point the headaches will disappear entirely.”

Sabrina hummed and pulled out her phone while she waited for the water to boil and then for the tea to brew. Chloe still hadn’t texted her, but she did have a message from Alya: “Missed you and Chloe at the airport :( They made their flight just fine.”

Sabrina sent a quick response before calling Chloe. The call went straight to voicemail. Sabrina frowned but still left a message. “Hey, Chlo, are we still on for lunch today? We were going to try out that new Thai place, right? Um, give me a call back!”

Sensing her troubled emotions, Nooroo commented, “It is unusual for Chloe not to answer her phone, is it not?”

“In the morning it is,” Sabrina agreed, “but it’s still a little early. And she did say she was getting a headache last night.”

As if on cue, the phone dinged with a new message, and Sabrina looked down to see that it was from Chloe. “Headache is worse. Maybe a fever. Sorry.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sabrina muttered, holding the phone out for Nooroo to read the message. She sent a quick reply: “Do you want me to keep you company?”

This time the response was immediate: “No.”

“Okay, that _is_ a little unusual,” she observed. By this time her tea was finished brewing, and she sipped it slowly while considering her friend.

Chloe of a few years ago would have insisted that Sabrina drop whatever she was doing and come over to nurse her back to health at the first sign that Chloe was sick. She would have demanded that Sabrina wait on her hand and foot until she felt better. Then if Sabrina got sick, she would have told her to go home and refused to see her again until Sabrina was completely well.

This year? Chloe was something of a mystery this year. She certainly demanded less of Sabrina and gave more of herself. Chloe had actually taken to completing all her own homework for the first time in years. When Sabrina came down with the flu in February, Chloe visited her several times to bring schoolwork and keep her company. She hadn’t insisted that Sabrina wait on her when she was sick at all that year, but she had still welcomed her company. So perhaps this was the new Chloe, feeling sick and not wanting to pass her illness to her friends?

But something didn’t quite sit right with Sabrina.

Her phone rang and she looked down to see that the call was from Alya. “Hey, girl!” the other girl called as soon as Sabrina answered, waving at her. “We missed you this morning! So what are you and the Queen up to? Must be super important to miss out on seeing the lovebirds off to South America!”

“Sorry, Alya,” Sabrina replied apologetically. “I wanted to, but I woke up late this morning. Yesterday really took a lot out of me.”

“Huh.” Alya was silent for a minute and appeared to be looking at something on her phone, her brow knitted together in confusion. “That doesn’t sound anything like what Chloe texted me. She said that the two of you were busy with a super-secret project.”

“No,” Sabrina responded slowly, frowning. “We don’t have a project today, though we did have lunch plans that we’re going to have to cancel now since Chloe is sick.”

Alya looked confused. “What? She’s sick?”

Sabrina nodded. “At least, that’s what she told me. I just got a text from her a little bit ago. She really told you she was with me?”

Alya nodded, brows furrowed. “It’s strange. All I’ve gotten from her is texts since the press conference. She hasn’t even put any photos on Instagram from the press conference yet. I was at least expecting her to react to all those photos of Adrien and Marinette together on the stage…”

“That _is_ unusual for her,” Sabrina agreed. “Now that I think about it, we were planning a movie night last night, and she cancelled at the last minute… by text. I don’t remember seeing her since the press conference, either…” She frowned. “That’s it, I need to check on that girl,” she announced.

“Have fun,” Alya told her. “If your lunch plans aren’t happening, do you want to get lunch together today?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Sabrina smiled. “Most likely Chloe is just blowing us all off to help arrange that gala at the hotel tomorrow or something; I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.”

* * *

One hour, a shower, and a second cup of tea later, Sabrina stood in the lobby of Le Grand Paris looking around with a little concern. It really wasn’t like Chloe to lie – or at least not anymore. So why would she have lied to her or Alya? If she was sick, why not just tell Alya she was sick? If she had a project, why lie to Sabrina _and_ Alya? What would Chloe have to hide from her best friends? Considering that they all shared one of the biggest secrets imaginable, they didn’t keep little secrets from each other!

Nooroo hummed quietly in the collar of Sabrina’s shirt; one of the many things she liked about her Kwami was how intuitive his ability made him. He could always sense when she was in distress, and always seemed to know how to calm her down.

Across the lobby, Sabrina could see Mayor Bourgeois walking around with a group of important-looking businessmen – she had a vague memory of Chloe mentioning that her father was looking to expand by opening another location in Cannes and that he was speaking with investors over the weekend. She frowned: the Mayor would not want to be disturbed while in a business meeting. She turned toward the elevators but stopped when she caught sight of the Mayor waving her over.

“Ah! Sabrina! And how are you enjoying your spring break, my dear?”

Sabrina smiled brightly. “Lovely so far. It was so nice to sleep in this morning! I was just going to look in on Chloe before our lunch.”

Mayor Bourgeois laughed. “You saw her all of yesterday and you’re not sick of each other, even after having a celebratory sleepover?”

Sabrina’s heart stopped. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, I suppose that could never happen with you two!” he went on dismissively. “I am gratified to know my Chloe has such close friends! I do hope you two actually _slept_ at some point last night. You have over a week to catch up, but my Princess does need her beauty sleep!”

“Um… yes… of course,” Sabrina stammered, heart pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing. “Say, have you seen Chloe lately? She was just going to pop in here for a minute…”

“No,” he answered, frowning. “Actually, I haven’t seen her since she left for school yesterday morning. She just sent me a text last night that your movie night went late so she was staying at your apartment for the night. Why?”

“Oh, you know Chloe.” Sabrina laughed shrilly. Nooroo started beating his wings against her collarbone in agitation. “She’s probably just taking forever to get ready. Or else she decided to play a prank and take the _express_ route to the ground … You know, that’s probably what it is. I’ll go check outside for her.”

With that, Sabrina turned on her heel and walked out of the hotel lobby as quickly as she possibly could without breaking into a sprint and drawing undue attention to herself. _Damn, damn, damn_. Sabrina, Alya, _and_ the Mayor had all received different, conflicting stories about Chloe’s whereabouts? The last time Chloe had lied to her father, she had been staying with Marinette (Sabrina _still_ couldn’t believe the bakery had survived that month!), but she had talked to Sabrina the next day. She supposed that she could understand Chloe lying to her father, but why the contradictory stories for Alya and herself? If this were hero business, why wouldn’t she tell them? Something felt very, very wrong.

Sabrina stood in the middle of the sidewalk outside Le Grand Paris, trying to figure out her next move, her heart pounding in her chest and her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Nooroo,” she whispered, “do you sense any emotional spikes that could be Chloe?”

“I am sorry, Mistress,” he replied. “I only sense your worry and fear.”

She sighed and pulled out her phone, pressing a speed-dial as she muttered, “That’s what I was afraid of.” The call connected and without waiting for the other person to say anything, she interrupted, “Max, we might have a problem here. Can you track Chloe’s phone?”

“Certainly,” he replied smoothly. A moment later he continued, “Her phone’s GPS signal is inactive.”

Sabrina muttered a curse. “Where was it last?”

She heard him typing in the background. “The last location her cell phone was active was… the Agreste Fashion House building, during yesterday’s press conference. After she transformed, the signal stopped and it has not resumed. Her miraculous location tracker is also inactive, so she is not transformed.”

“So we don’t know where Chloe is,” Sabrina stated, “and no one has seen her since yesterday. And she was transformed at the time. Correction: we’ve _definitely_ got a problem. That’s it. I’m calling Alya and Nino.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word on the Butterfly Miraculous’ emotion-sensing ability. It works in two different ways: passively-receiving or actively-searching (you see this in the series, as well). In “Bugs” Chapter 5, she received an intense emotion which she then traced back to the source (see “Backwarder”). This can happen at any time without her doing anything to cause it, and does not have any negative effects on her. In “Press Conference” Chapter 2, she was searching actively for emotional variations (see “Party Crasher”). This requires more intent/focus/concentration on her part, and that is what gives Sabrina a headache because she is inexperienced with it. It isn’t dangerous, but it is inconvenient.


	2. Chapter 2

The first sensation Chloe felt on waking up was pain. A headache was beginning to build at a point near the back of her head, rolling around through her head as though someone had stuck a red-hot iron into her brain and was stirring it around. She was lying on a freezing-cold concrete floor. As feeling returned, the pain spread until it encompassed her whole body. She slowly raised her hand to feel the spot where her headache felt the most acute. There was a solid lump that throbbed under her probing fingers. Chloe winced in pain as she touched the spot. When she took her fingers away from it, they came away sticky. She reached out her hands to push herself into a sitting position, and left a streak of mostly-dried blood behind on the floor.

Chloe glanced around her surroundings. She was in a small room – her _closet_ was bigger than this place! – with sterile white walls. A single metal chair sat in one corner, and a ratty old grey blanket had been thrown on the floor next to her. She could not see a single window. There was a door with a small flap at the bottom. Chloe looked closer at the ceiling and saw a small round fixture in one corner that looked like it could be a security camera. She couldn’t look at the ceiling for long, however; the bright fluorescent white lights irritated her already-building headache like so many pokers stabbed into her retinas. She’d never had a concussion before, but she imagined this was what one would feel like.

With a groan, Chloe felt around in her pockets. Her phone was missing. Her purse was nowhere to be seen. “Pollen?” she whispered, looking around for the telltale flash of yellow. Her voice came out raspy and her throat scratched. She coughed and looked around for something to drink. There was nothing – even the bucket lying on its side in one corner was empty. The room was silent, and her Kwami did not answer. Chloe reached up to run a hand through her hair, careful to avoid the goose egg where she’d been hit. Her heart sank: her miraculous was gone.

She leaned back to rest her head against the cool concrete wall. The last thing she remembered was the press conference. She was standing in the far back with Juleka – the only two miraculous holders who could blend in at the press conference (Adrien had arranged for a small group of their models to attend and show off some of Marinette’s designs for just that reason). The other Heroes had all been bickering over the communication system when Alya asked her to check on a disturbance in the parking lot. She had ducked out the front door, transformed, and swung over to the parking lot. The dispute had by that point moved out of Agreste’s parking lot and into that of the shopping center next door.

Queen Bee had looped her top string around one of the two people at the center of the incident, pulling her out of the crowd. That was when she had reported it to Alya. When the other person had come over to continue the fight, Queen Bee had stepped between the two women and physically pushed them apart with a hand on each of their chests.

Something had struck her in the back of the head, and the last thing she remembered was the parking lot coming up to meet her.

Chloe ran her hands down her front, feeling for other injuries. When her fingers slipped through the holes torn through the knees of her Capri pants and touched her knees, she hissed in pain. Her shoulders and breasts stung. She could feel where the skin had almost been peeled off her chin by the pavement. A cut ran down her right cheek where she had landed on it. The skin around the eyebrow on that side of her face felt hot; she could imagine a bruise starting to blossom there.

Chloe pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and buried her face in her knees.

For the first time in her life, Chloe was completely alone.

Not that there were always people around her; Chloe actually enjoyed spending _some_ time by herself (sleeping, at least). But even when Daddy was busy and Mommy was away on business, she at least had Jean or one of the other hotel workers at her beck and call, ready to wait on her every need. And growing up, she had been allowed to make a couple of friends: Adrien and Sabrina.

Adrien’s father had been an up-and-coming fashion designer, and her parents had thought it wise to make his acquaintance. Consequently, the two children of rising stars in the fashion world had been thrust together at an early age, forced to fend for themselves while their too-important parents attended to business matters. It was sheer good luck that Chloe and Adrien had hit it off as well as they had and been allowed to play together as they grew up.

And then there was Sabrina. Her father and Chloe’s father had been friends in school, and when they both married and had daughters around the same age, it had been only natural for them to bring Sabrina and Chloe together and let the two girls play together. Of course, looking back, Chloe had realized last summer that she had been a terrible friend to Sabrina for years: Sabrina needed to take care of someone, and Chloe had taken advantage of that to treat Sabrina like a servant. It had only been after watching Alya and Marinette interact over the summer that Chloe had finally woken up to her own failings and tried to become a better friend.

Alya and Marinette… Chloe had been even worse to them – especially Marinette! When they attended the same école élémentaire, Chloe had recognized early on just how much Marinette’s parents cared about her. That was when she had realized how unloving her own parents were – or at least her mother. Looking back, her bullying of Marinette had been nothing more than jealousy – her, Chloe Bourgeois, jealous of Marinette Dupain-Cheng! She felt hot tears of embarrassment stinging her cut cheek at that.

And even after how much she had bullied Marinette – after how condescending she had been to all of the “peasants” in their class – Marinette had _chosen_ to give her the Bee Miraculous. Yes, Chloe had first received it by accident when Ladybug – Marinette! – had dropped it. But the other times she had received it, Marinette had given it to her intentionally. Because she trusted her. Because she thought that Chloe could be a miraculous hero. Marinette – the girl she had idolized for two years without realizing it – had not just chosen her as a hero, but had made her a friend. And not because of who her father was or how much power she had as a result, but because of who Chloe was on the inside. Because she had recognized that Chloe had it in her to be a hero. Even before Chloe herself had known.

Looking back at the person she had been before Hawk Moth – even just before becoming Queen Bee – Chloe could hardly recognize herself as being that same person. She had grown so much, and especially in the last year. She was becoming the best version of herself, someone truly worthy of Pollen’s unswerving loyalty and adoration.

So why did this have to happen to her now?

Chloe sniffed back the tears that threatened to fall, keeping her face hidden from the camera. She could not allow her captors – whoever they were – to see her weakness. She had to pull herself together if she was going to get out of this – especially without Pollen. She could not allow herself to become an emotional wreck.

_Wait…_

Sabrina could sense emotions with the Butterfly Miraculous. And as soon as Sabrina realized that Chloe was missing, she would start searching the city for an emotional spike that she could trace back to Chloe. So all Chloe would need to do to be found is allow the emotions to overwhelm her and allow her best friend to find her. Sabrina could get her out of this situation in an instant!

But if she did so, what would be the cost? Her miraculous was gone. Who knew what would happen to the Bee Miraculous now? And if she returned to Marinette without it, what would Marinette say? Marinette had trusted her with the miraculous – and if she lost it, that would mean letting down her friend and her hero.

But even more fundamental than that, she might never see Pollen again.

Over the last year – ever since Marinette insisted to Master Fu that she and Alya and Nino be allowed to hold their miraculous permanently – the one person who had always been there for Chloe had been Pollen. When she woke in the middle of the night, remembering the terrible things she had done and said, remembering the many times she had caused Akumas, the one who comforted her was Pollen. When she had nightmares about her own Akumatizations, Pollen’s buzzing soothed her back to sleep. When her mother refused to pay her any attention and her father was too busy playing politics, the one she could always count on to be there – even when everyone else in her life was busy – was Pollen. When she fell back into old habits and hurt those closest to her, the one who encouraged her to apologize to them was Pollen. Her best friends weren’t Marinette or Alya. It wasn’t Adrien. It was Sabrina, and it was Pollen.

Whatever else happened, Chloe could not abandon Pollen.

Drawing on every reserve of willpower left to her, Chloe forced her terror, sadness, and fear back down to manageable levels. She sucked in a deep breath and held it until she thought her lungs would burst before releasing it slowly. As she repeated the exercise, she felt her heart rate slowing and calm returning. She forced herself to think about positive memories – movie nights with Marinette’s family and all their friends; picnics at the park with Marinette, Alya, and Sabrina; shopping at the mall with all the girls; soaring over the city as Queen Bee – to stave off the sadness and loneliness and fear of the unknown. She could control her emotions. She could find out where she was and what had happened to Pollen. While she was here, she could even try to get information about her captors – was this the work of Lynchpin?

Somehow the answer to that question seemed obvious.

So much of the spike in crimes around Paris since the fall of Hawk Moth was the work of Lynchpin that it was surprising to find a crime he _wasn’t_ behind. And many of Lynchpin’s actions had been directed at Marinette and Adrien. The Heroes of Paris had arranged the press conference to draw Lynchpin out. They had expected him to do _something_ – probably lash out at Marinette and Adrien. Well… Lynchpin certainly had not disappointed.

If this was Lynchpin, Chloe could play his games. She would sit in this cell until the sun exploded. She would bluff her way through whatever questions he asked, feed her interrogators whatever garbage she could think of to protect her friends. And all the while, she would be watching Lynchpin and his minions. She would take whatever information they gave her. And if she ever felt like she was losing control, like she was in real danger? Chloe had faith in Sabrina: Sabrina would never give up on her. Sabrina would find her, send an Akuma, and get her out.

The knowledge that she had a plan lit a fire in Chloe’s heart, fueled her determination. She hid her face between her legs to hide her newfound courage from the camera. Despite being captured and alone in unknown surroundings, she still had power. She still had a card up her sleeve.

She had friends.

So Chloe would do her part.

She would _not_ let her friends down.


	3. Chapter 3

Alya stared at her alcove wall intently – so intently that she missed the sound of the elevator plate sliding into the ground when Max and Sabrina arrived at Headquarters. Since her Mirage demonstration for Marinette, she had filled in a lot more pieces of the puzzle and made it a permanent part of the Headquarters décor. Between the two of them, she and Anansi had checked out every drug dealer in the city and traced them back to three different groups – and of the three, Lynchpin clearly controlled two and had some sort of agreement with the third. They had yet to figure out where he was getting his drugs from – his suppliers were being too careful for that – but the drugs were definitely his primary source of income. Too bad they weren’t the only one: every bank heist in the last four months (or at least the ones the Heroes had stopped) had added to their steadily-growing collection of lynchpins. And they couldn’t stop all the robberies.

And unfortunately, despite the arrests, Lynchpin’s number of grunts never seemed to decrease.

The Heroes stopped the robberies and arrested the dealers. They handed the perpetrators over to the police. And then the criminals disappeared right back onto the streets. Obviously that was the work of Lynchpin’s police mole. But every attempt Alya and Sabrina had made to root out the dirty cop had proven fruitless. Even the exhaustive psychological profile they had drawn up for the mole (helpfully affixed to the cave wall with a lynchpin) had gotten them nowhere; it could fit about half the Paris police force! And that concerned her even more: what if the profile was so broad because they were (unintentionally) combining two moles into one? Or three moles? Or four? Or–?

Alya traced a string from the unknown mole’s profile to one of the criminals he had “lost” out of the system. That criminal led to a kidnapping ring that had tried to abduct a rich heiress who lived near the Japanese embassy. That kidnapping ring had struck several targets – some of them _before_ their first confirmed Lynchpin activity! Although the Heroes had prevented most of the abductions, there was still a six-year-old boy unaccounted for (and even _that_ kidnapping was only speculation!). What on earth did the six-year-old son of the Mayor’s janitor have to do with the forty-something daughter of a Japanese movie director? Only Lynchpin’s twisted mind held the answer…

The more time Alya spent trying to unravel this tangled web, the more strings appeared. She still stood by her working theory that Adrien was being targeted – three different incidents had targeted the Agreste Fashion House in some fashion, after all, and there was real malice behind the attempted frame job. At the same time, Adrien did not account for everything.

Alya jumped when Nino nudged her shoulder. She turned around to see Max and Sabrina standing just outside the alcove, staring at her. Max had the same look on his face that he usually wore while wrestling with a particularly difficult math problem. Sabrina, on the other hand, was clearly beside herself with worry, her hands squeezed into tight fists by her sides to keep them from shaking too noticeably.

“So let me get this straight,” Alya began, adopting the same tone of voice she used to calm her sisters down when they were getting wild, her gaze shifting between the other three, “No one has actually seen Chloe since yesterday’s press conference, and the last time any of us heard from her outside of text messages was when she went to break up that fight in the parking lot. The only hero whose identity is public knowledge may be missing, and we are only figuring it out now?”

Max grimaced. “That is correct,” he admitted. “And Adrien and Marinette are on a plane over the Atlantic for the next six hours. If necessary I could portal their plane back to Paris, but…”

“I would _love_ to see their expressions if you did that, dude!” Nino laughed, but the laugh died out into awkward silence a moment later.

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Alya told them. “After the last three years, they definitely need the break. And they have a busy meeting schedule in three countries on two continents. We told them we could handle things here without them for a week and we’d only call in an absolute emergency. So let’s figure out what we’re dealing with and see what we can manage on our own. Worst comes to the worst, they are our backup plan. Max?”

Max led the way to his lab on the other side of the underground Headquarters. By the time they walked through the doorway, Markov and Turing had already booted up the computers. With a swipe through the air, Max pulled up Chloe’s phone records and displayed them on one of his monitors. “It appears as though Chloe has been sending and receiving text messages regularly since her presumed disappearance,” he reported. “However, the last voice call she made or answered was an hour prior to the press conference.” He displayed a couple of the texts side by side and ran another program. Red lines flashed through several of the recent messages. “Based on style and word choice, there is a 60% probability that these messages were sent by a different person.”

“Hang on,” Alya said, moving closer, “bring up that conversation with Ryoku.” She skimmed through the texts quickly, her eyes widening as the conversation continued. “How did we not know this was happening?” she wondered.

“Faux-Chloe just sent another text to Ryoku,” Max informed her as the new message flashed on the screen.

On reading the message, Alya cursed and whipped out her phone. She tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for Ryoku to answer. “C’mon, c’mon,” she muttered, heart pounding in her chest. After what felt like forever, Ryoku picked up.

“Rena!” she greeted her. “What’s going on? You would not believe the day we just had! First we met another miraculous user – two of them actually! Then we fought a demon! Viperion and I just wrapped things up here–”

“I know,” Alya interrupted her quickly. “I just read the messages you sent to Queen Bee. Listen: do not go to the hotel!”

“What? But we just arrived! Queen Bee said it wouldn’t be a problem for our guest to stay in an empty room at the hotel for now.” Ryoku sounded confused.

“That wasn’t Queen Bee,” Alya told her urgently. “You’re walking into a trap!”

“What!?!” gasped Ryoku, a moment before Viperion shouted “Second Chance” and the phone call abruptly cut off.

“Damn it!” Alya cursed, wheeling on Max even as she punched the button to redial. “We need to see what’s going on there!” Seeing his blank stare, she pointed at the screen and shouted, “Hotel!”

Alya ignored Nino pulling her back into his chest and rubbing her shoulders. The phone rang without a response. She stared at the monitors, watching Max’s progress in working through the firewalls protecting the security cameras at Le Grand Paris. Sabrina had already transformed, grabbed a butterfly out of midair, and released an Akuma, which fluttered out of the far window and turned toward the hotel. Finally, Max pulled up the live feed from the hotel lobby.

Alya pushed away from Nino and looked closer. A half-dozen thugs were unconscious on the floor. Civilians huddled beneath tables and behind couches. A couple of the windows looked to have been shot out. A single handgun was visible on the floor which appeared to have had its barrel sliced clean through. But they didn’t recognize Kagami or Luka among the unconscious bodies. Alya finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

Her phone rang. “I have the proof you need,” Viperion told her without preamble.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said you needed to know if they were working for Lynchpin,” he replied. “They are: I found a lynchpin in the leader’s pocket.”

“When did I–?”

“On the phone with Ryoku… oh… that must have been the first time through.” He let out an easy laugh. “Well, you asked, and we got it.”

“Thanks,” Alya told him, giving the other three a thumbs-up. Sabrina reappeared from a flash of lavender light a moment later. “What are you going to do with your… she’s a _Dove_ Miraculous holder? Is that right?”

“Ryoku says she can find her a place to stay for a few days,” Viperion explained. “We’ve got it under control here.”

Alya nodded, although he couldn’t see her. “Let us know if you need anything,” she ordered, before hanging up. She glanced up to see the confused looks of those around her. “They’re okay,” she explained, “and Viperion got us the confirmation we need: Lynchpin definitely has Chloe.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Nino asked.

“Get her back, of course,” Sabrina retorted, folding her arms and glaring at him.

“Obviously we’ll get her back,” Nino agreed, holding a hand up soothingly. “I just mean, what are we going to do right now?”

“Based on recent events,” Max began, “I calculate less than a 32% probability that Lynchpin knows that we know. From the security footage, the team he sent to the hotel only had a 12% chance of success, even without our friends being forewarned.”

“If he doesn’t know,” observed Alya, “we shouldn’t clue him in; who knows what he would do to Chloe if he knew we were on to him? Max, put a trace on Chloe’s phone and have Turing continue to message it the way we normally would. Any messages to or from Chloe go through him. Nino, let the others know that Chloe is missing and to inform Max of any other messages she sends. I’m going to call Anansi; it’s time for the Césaire sisters to crack some skulls.”

“What about me?” Sabrina asked pointedly.

“You are our ace in the hole,” Alya told her. “You get to search a city’s-worth of emotions for Chloe!”

“If you are ready,” interrupted Max, pointing to the screen, “I have accessed the security footage from the shopping center where Chloe was last seen.”

Alya turned to watch the somewhat-grainy footage from the security camera. The fight in the Agreste parking lot had moved very quickly from where it started in front of the Agreste building into the nearby shopping center’s parking lot, with over a dozen people eventually involved in the altercation. Alya frowned. Her instinct told her that something about the fight was _wrong_. A yellow blur appeared in the upper corner of the screen as Queen Bee swung in, landed just outside the ring of people, and used her top to pull one of the two women out of the center of the group. The other followed, and Queen Bee placed herself between them. Then someone to Queen Bee’s left swung his shopping bag over his head and struck Queen Bee in the back of her head. She fell forward, face-planted on the pavement, and remained there, unmoving. The crowd immediately dispersed. One person pulled the miraculous from her hair and placed it in a metal box. By the time she had de-transformed, a trio of others had already picked her up and thrown her unceremoniously into the back of a van that had just driven up. The van was pulling away less than a minute after she’d been struck.

“Nino?” Alya asked, not taking her eyes off the screen, staring at it in horror. “Didn’t you see any of this? You and Miss Pinky were supposed to be on the roof of the next building over from this shopping center. You should have been able to see this perfectly!”

Nino groaned and buried his face in his hands. “We _would_ have been there, but we went to help King Monkey and Geber sort out that madness at the zoo. From what he described, I figured someone was using the Mkufu wa Wanyama, so we went to back them up and let them take out the necklace dude,” he explained.

Alya’s eyes bugged out. She slapped her forehead and let out a low curse. “They _played_ us, babe!” she moaned. “Lynchpin used the zoo as a distraction to pull you out of position, and we fell for it!”

“But why did he want Queen Bee?” Sabrina asked, wide-eyed. “Was she the target, or did he just want _a_ miraculous hero?”

“That’s what we’re going to have to find out,” Alya replied grimly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “Mkufu wa Wanyama” (“Animal Necklace” in Swahili), first appeared in “Along Came Anansi.” The zoo incident was in the first couple chapters of “Monkey Games.”
> 
> “Turing” is Max’s new robot. It occurs to me that Markov is fairly recognizable, so Max needs a second robot to exclusively assist with Heroes of Paris things. Markov is still there, but disappears when heroes who don’t know Max’s identity are in the lab. Plus, Markov goes everywhere with him, while Turing remains at Headquarters.
> 
> This story comes with a companion, "The Queen is Dead: Mission Logs," showing some of the other Heroes' efforts to help with the search for Chloe. The [first chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791269/chapters/59952262) of that goes along with this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe winced against the bright, unforgiving fluorescent lights that seared her retinas as she woke up. She had only slept fitfully on the cold, hard floor. The blanket barely provided any warmth – no more than a thin covering, really. She’d tossed and turned for what felt like hours – every attempt to get comfortable irritated the goose egg on the back of her head. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Her captors had not turned the lights off once since she first found herself in this cell. Of course, time was only a relative concept; there was no clock in her cell and she didn’t have a watch, so she had no way of telling what time it was or how long she had slept. There were no windows, so she had no idea whether it was even day or night outside.

A tray sat next to the door flap with a baguette, a half-full glass of water, and a couple pieces of cured ham. Chloe eyed the food warily and sniffed the glass before taking a tiny sip. Then her thirst got the better of her and she downed the entire glass in two gulps. She turned to the food and wrinkled her nose. She was about to push it away when her stomach growled in protest. The last time she had eaten anything was a handful of nuts and raisins as a snack right before the press conference started… however long ago that had been. With a grimace, she nibbled on one end of the baguette.

Chloe could tell at once that this was nowhere near the quality she was used to from the Dupain-Cheng bakery – or even the hotel kitchen. The bread tasted at least a couple days old and tough. She bit off a chunk and worked it with her teeth for a couple minutes, trying to soften it just enough for her swallow. Once the bread was gone, she turned to the ham, which was far saltier than anything she would ever willingly eat. But, _beggars can’t be choosers_ , she grimaced, taking a small bite.

Her “meal” finished, Chloe examined the tray it had been delivered on: hardened plastic, no different than you would find in a cafeteria. Not much she could learn from that… but perhaps it could be used as a weapon. Of course, Chloe had no intention of actually _fighting_ her way out; she still hadn’t learned anything about her captors yet. But the whole world knew that she was a hero, so playing dumb would never fly. And they would expect a captured hero to try to escape after being abducted – under normal circumstances, she _would_ try to get away from them. Chloe picked up the tray and tested it in her hands. _Probably good for one – maybe two – hits_.

The latch clicked on the door and Chloe looked up in time to see a trio of angry-looking men walking in, all of whom looked like they probably weighed at least three times as much as she did. She quickly stood up, sneered in an approximation of her accustomed air of superiority, put one hand on her hip, arched an eyebrow at them, and called, “Ex- _cuse_ me! What am I doing here!?! Do you have any idea who I am? Who my _father_ is? If you do not let me go _right now_ you are going to be in _so much_ trouble! I _demand_ to speak to your boss!!!”

The first man through the door simply stared at her unimpressed, his arms folded across his chest. The other two took positions to either side of him. Keeping her expression as haughty as ever, eyes fixed on the one in the middle, Chloe used her peripheral vision to size them up for possible weaknesses. If she had her miraculous, of course, she would be able to take out all three in under a minute and without breaking a sweat. Without her miraculous? Based on how they stood, Chloe thought she might be able to distract the one on the right long enough to get out the still-open door. But that’s it. Still, escape wasn’t the plan – _yet_ , she reminded herself. All the same… _better make this look good._

The men still had not spoken a word.

Quick as lightning, Chloe darted forward, aiming for the one in the center who was probably in charge. The man on the left reached out to grab her, but she spun around the arm, leapt in the air, and brought the tray smashing down on the leader’s head, holding it with both hands. With a tremendous crack, the tray broke in two jagged halves in her hands. The man shook his head slowly as she dropped to the floor in front of him. She ducked a pair of arms that tried to grab her around the shoulders and punched the leader as hard as she could in the gut with one half of the broken tray, jamming the tray’s sharp edge into his stomach with as much force as she could put behind it. He stumbled backward a step, groaning, and cradled his stomach with one hand. The hand came away red.

The other two men, however, had finally moved to defend their boss. Chloe found her arms pinned to her sides as one grabbed her from behind in a massive bear hug and lifted her off the ground. Almost involuntarily, one of the tray halves clattered to the floor. The other man was standing right in front of her, so she brought her knees up to her chest and kicked out as hard as she could, catching the one in front of her in the shoulders. He stumbled backward, nearly tripped over the boss’s legs, and caught himself against the far wall. The final man, meanwhile, twisted around and threw Chloe across the room as hard as he could. Chloe had no time to brace herself before her body slammed into the wall. She did not have to fake the moan of pain that escaped from her as she slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. She tried to push herself back up, but her arms wouldn’t cooperate.

Chloe closed her eyes as she heard footsteps approaching her. When the first kick landed on her back, she tried to bite back the whimper that escaped her throat. Involuntarily she arched her back and rolled over to look up at the ceiling, and the thug took advantage of the opening to stomp on her exposed stomach. She flinched away from the blow and bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. The thought flashed through her mind that she could end this right now: just give in to the pain, embrace the fear and anger, and let her emotions light her up like a beacon that Sabrina could see from space.

But if she did that, she might never get Pollen back. She would be leaving without any new information. All of this – all the pain she was experiencing right now – would have been for nothing.

She couldn’t give up now. With a herculean effort, Chloe pulled her knees up to her chin, hugged her legs as tight as she could, and forced herself to breathe normally, pushing those emotions down once more.

She passed out, but the blows continued falling.

* * *

Chloe woke up on a metal cot with a paper-thin mattress. She couldn’t tell for certain, but the room looked the same – there was even a smear of blood along one wall above where the boss had fallen, probably from where pushed himself to his feet. Her arms and legs were tied down tightly with ropes binding her at the ankles, waist, and shoulders. A man with bright red hair and wire-rim glasses stood over her, poking and prodding at her sides. She winced and tried to shy away from him as he touched a particularly painful spot. She didn’t need the feeling of her ribs shifting to know that at least a couple were broken.

“Who – who are you?” she whimpered, looking at him with a mix of fear and loathing.

“Me?” the man asked, coughing. “I am merely a doctor, and you are a patient. I am here to make sure you are not too badly injured after that… unpleasantness before.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Chloe ground out, only to hiss in pain as he dabbed her forehead above her right eye with an alcohol wipe.

“You have bruises all over your back and sides,” he informed her, carefully avoiding her eyes. “You have new scrapes on your legs. You have a nice collection of broken ribs. But at least you didn’t break anything else. If you avoid strenuous activity for a while, you should heal just fine. Under the circumstances, I trust that will not be an issue for you, my dear. But now, your host would like a word with you.” He untied her shoulders and handed her a phone.

As she pushed herself into a sitting position, cradling her broken ribs with one arm, Chloe surreptitiously glanced at the display. It showed the time as 4:37, but she couldn’t see the date. The doctor coughed again, and Chloe put the phone up to her ear. “Doctor Lynchpin, I presume?” She smirked: Adrien would be so proud.

“If it isn’t the Princess of Paris,” the digital voice on the other side of the call responded. Even without hearing any inflection from the voice, Chloe could sense the anger and mockery oozing through the phone.

“I’m not sure if you heard,” she retorted, “but I’m not a _princess_ anymore; I’m the Queen!”

“A queen who’s lost her crown – oop, I mean, her hair comb,” Lynchpin observed. “How clumsy of you.”

“You know,” Chloe commented, putting a hand to her mouth in fake surprise, “I thought I dropped something on the way in. If you could be so kind as to send in the maid service to look for it, I would be oh, so grateful.”

“Cute,” Lynchpin deadpanned. “I bet you’re hoping I will just hand the miraculous back to you so you can sting my assistants and escape. Too bad for you, I’m not that stupid.”

“I would never _dream_ of calling you ‘stupid,’” Chloe insisted. _I’ll just_ think _it really loudly!_ “After all, you have been at least ten steps ahead of everyone this whole time.”

“It has been quite amusing to watch your _friends_ running around impotently for the last several months. Every time they seem to be getting close… something always seems to happen! Did Rena Rouge tell you about the time I had her lead assassinated right in front of her? I could have had her killed, too, but where’s the fun in that? No, a quick death is too good for people like you… I’m going to enjoy having you as my… guest.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Chloe asked, masking her twinge of fear with a confident façade. “I’ve dealt with much worse than _you_.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have… with a miraculous,” commented Lynchpin. “I should thank you, by the way: I would never have been able to get my hands on your miraculous if you hadn’t oh, so helpfully outed yourself to the world as a hero! Oh, and I suppose I have _you_ to thank for the _second_ miraculous I’ve added to my collection, also!”

“Second?”

“Indeed. Just a little bit ago my people found someone by the river – that river is useful for _so much_ for my purposes, you know. They found someone: a miraculous user, and not one of your friends. In fact, I would never have found him if your friends hadn’t been texting you for help, so I suppose that means I owe you some gratitude for _both_ my miraculous!”

Chloe groaned audibly. Clearly the Heroes didn’t realize she was missing yet. Her blood boiled when Lynchpin laughed through the phone.

“Yes, you might say I’m in the process of recruiting my _own_ team now!” Lynchpin told her.

“Why tell me this? Some sort of recruiting pitch?”

Lynchpin laughed. “Please. I’m not _that_ desperate, _Queen Bee_.”


	5. Chapter 5

Alya pulled the hood of her sweatshirt a little tighter and the ball cap a little further forward to fully cover her hair. The sweatshirt was at least three sizes too big for her – she’d borrowed one of Nora’s for this mission – and the hat was one of Nino’s. Under any other circumstances, she would stick out more in this “disguise” than if she had just come as herself. Fortunately, the weather had taken a turn that afternoon and the temperature had dropped about ten degrees, so _everyone_ in the shopping center parking lot was bundled up a little more than usual.

She shivered: something about being out in the open, knowing that she was trying to find a lead on Lynchpin to rescue another hero, put her on edge. Alya could feel eyes on her coming from all directions, though everyone else in the parking lot was focused entirely on their own affairs. For all she knew, Alya was completely on her own here.

“How are you doing, baby sis?”

Check that: mostly on her own. “It’s a shopping center parking lot in the middle of the afternoon during Spring Break,” Alya deadpanned, checking to make sure no one saw her speaking into her earpiece. “It’s a little busy and a lot crowded.”

“I told you,” Anansi replied, chuckling, “it’s a wild goose chase. Over a day since Queenie was taken, and everything’s going to be different.”

“Maybe,” Alya agreed, frowning in contemplation as she scanned the area. According to the video, she was standing exactly where Queen Bee had been assaulted. “At the same time, we’ve got to start somewhere. Maybe they dropped something.”

“Well, I hope you’re having more luck than _I_ am!” Anansi grunted. “As cathartic as beating on the usual suspects is, they don’t seem to know any more today than they did last time…”

Alya snorted. “Could that be because of all the brain damage you’ve been giving them?”

“… I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Alya rolled her eyes and muted the conversation with Anansi. Nino had insisted that if she was going to go out and investigate on her own, she needed to stay in constant contact with _someone_ – they couldn’t have another hero go missing on top of Chloe. Consequently, Max had rigged their communicators and phones so that if she or any of the other heroes were silent for too long or said the right safe word, they would automatically send a distress signal. She’d rolled her eyes at the time: for as adorable as Nino’s protectiveness could be, sometimes he went a little overboard.

Now, however, she found herself wishing he was there with her, instead of watching Chris and the twins.

“Found anything useful?” Alya muttered.

Her pant leg rustled slightly, and Trixx’s muffled voice replied, “I don’t see anything yet. Up close, these tire tracks do match the model we saw on the video, so we’re at least looking in the right spot.”

Alya frowned and let her eyes roam around the parking lot one more time. Something white on the ground in front of her caught her attention, and she walked over to it. As she approached, she realized it was a flat piece of plastic, ground down from having been driven over multiple times. She put her foot over it and murmured, “Pick that up and tell me what it is.”

Trixx was silent for a minute. Alya felt something in her shoe before the strange sensation of having her Kwami climb up her leg inside her jeans. “It’s a keycard of some sort,” Trixx told her, once he had reached her chest and climbed up to sit between her shirt and sweatshirt. “There’s an ornate ‘G’ on one side of it.”

“Do you have any idea how weird it feels to have you running up my leg?” she asked, pulling the sweatshirt’s neck out just a little to look down it at the Kwami.

Trixx rolled his eyes. “You know you love me,” he told her cheekily, taking a cookie out of her shirt pocket.

“Just don’t spill crumbs down the front of my shirt,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, ‘cuz you’d _hate_ to have to ask Nino to help you get those out later…”

Alya glared at him but couldn’t keep the flush from rising to her cheeks. The Kwami grinned at her knowingly. She was about to respond when Max’s voice over the communicator caught her attention.

“I have identified the van in question,” Max reported. “It was reported stolen from the loading dock at Le Grand Paris yesterday at approximately 2:00 PM.”

“What does the ‘G’ on the keycard look like?” Alya muttered to Trixx, who scrunched up his face, brought his paws together, and spread them wide. A tiny flat illusion emerged from his paws and spread out until Alya could clearly see the letter. Her eyes shot wide open in recognition. She keyed her communicator. “There may be a connection to the keycard we just found: it’s from Le Grand Paris. A, go check out the hotel and see if you can find anything; maybe Mom knows something about what happened to it. Pegasus, I’ll bring the keycard back to Headquarters so you can do your thing.”

“Acknowledged, Rena,” Max replied.

* * *

Alya paced up and down the underground meadow Hawk Moth had planted in what was now their Headquarters while waiting for Max to finish his analysis of the keycard. Trixx hid in the tall grass near the grotto, waiting for one of the butterflies to get close enough for him to pounce. Alya walked into the alcove she had claimed for herself and scowled at the wall displaying the results of her investigation. _If_ Max managed to link the keycard to the van theft, and _if_ they could identify the thief, and _if_ Max could determine that the thief was watching Chloe… then what? That _still_ wouldn’t give them a motive; Chloe may be a “high-value target” as one of the Heroes of Paris, but she was also the daughter of the Mayor of Paris – one of the most significant politicians in the country, even _with_ all of André Bourgeois’ self-important bluster. What if this whole thing was politically-motivated and had nothing to do with the Heroes of Paris? Yes, Lynchpin’s thugs had taken her miraculous the moment she was down, but it wouldn’t have been hard to do; everyone knew she was Queen Bee and what her miraculous was after she outed herself to the world three minutes after finding the comb!

Even knowing that this was definitely Lynchpin didn’t actually narrow the motive down: Lynchpin was interested in politics, too! “I wonder if her father has heard anything from the kidnappers yet,” Alya thought out loud.

“He hasn’t.” Alya whipped around to find Impératrice Pourpre leaning against the alcove entrance. “I’ve been checking his emotions every hour or so to see if he realizes something is wrong,” she explained. “So far he’s just got that same nervous energy going that he always has when dealing with business matters. The cover story should hold up just fine,” she added, de-transforming quietly. “It’s not like he ever actually checks up on Chloe during the day. Or when she doesn’t go home at night. Or any _other_ times, for that matter.”

Alya frowned. “I had no idea she was so… alone,” she admitted finally. “She always appears so… together, like nothing bothers her. She’s missing, and her father doesn’t know it’s even happened. I’m not questioning our decision to keep him out of the loop, but I just don’t think that would have worked for the rest of us. And I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that Lynchpin’s goons haven’t said anything to him themselves. If they were looking for a ransom or wanted to mess with his business deal or wanted some political favor – if they wanted _anything_ from her father – they would have to contact him. If they’re not contacting him, they don’t care about her father; they care about her.”

“I still can’t find her,” Sabrina confessed, staring at the ground. “She needs our help, and I can’t find her. Normally the Heroes’ emotions come through so clear to me that I don’t even need to think about it – Chloe’s especially. Now?” She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know if the problem is range or whether she is not feeling any intense emotions or whether she is even _alive_! I just – I want my best friend back!”

Alya pulled Sabrina into a hug. The other girl resisted at first but eventually rested her cheek against Alya’s shoulder. Sabrina shook as she wrapped her arms around Alya and allowed her pent-up tears to fall. Nooroo fluttered up to sit on Sabrina’s shoulder, where he was presently joined by Trixx. The girls stood that way for several minutes until Sabrina sniffed once, wiped her eyes and nose on Alya’s shoulder, and leaned back.

“I got makeup on your sweatshirt,” Sabrina commented, glancing at the wet spot. “Sorry.”

Alya examined the stain and giggled. “It’s Nora’s, and that’s probably more makeup than she has ever worn in her _life_ , girl!” She smirked. “If she says anything, I’ll send her _your_ way!”

Sabrina laughed. “Let’s see how she likes getting turned into a gigantic, _emotionless_ spider this time! I’m sure the people holding Chloe would _love_ tangling with that…”

Seeing Sabrina’s face fall on saying that, Alya squeezed her shoulders. “We are going to find her,” she promised. “With all the Heroes of Paris on the lookout and you, me, and Max _all_ coming at this mystery from different sides, there’s no way we won’t get her back.”

Sabrina nodded. “I know,” she replied, sighing heavily. She started. “Speaking of which, I almost forgot why I came over: Max finished with that keycard.”

Alya practically ran over to Max’s lab, while Sabrina returned to the grotto. As Alya burst through the doorway, Max announced, “I am working my way through the last several days of guests at Le Grand Paris, but no one has raised red flags yet. The keycard itself did not narrow the search, and Anansi has not turned up any new leads, either. Unfortunately, the last two weeks have been the busiest of the year, with business 23% higher than normal.”

“That could be suspicious. Is there a reason for the higher business?” Alya asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Unknown,” Max replied. “I have minimal data on which to base my conclusion, but the increase appears unconnected to Lynchpin according to my preliminary analysis.”

“So we’ve still got nothing.” Alya groaned and reached up to run her hand along the brim of the hat she was still wearing. It was too much to expect that Lynchpin would give them an easy trail to follow; three months she and Anansi had been working this case, and they had yet to crack it. Anansi could shake down drug dealers until they’re all senile and wrinkly, hand out concussions like candy, and not get anywhere. The leads just weren’t coming to them.

Alya frowned in contemplation. They might not have any leads, but they did have the element of surprise. “Have you gotten anything new from her phone?” Alya asked.

“Negative,” Max replied. “Turing has continued to carry on simulated conversations with the faux-Chloe from a variety of different numbers, but ‘she’ has not given him any new usable information.”

Alya was silent in thought for a long minute. “What if we’re going about this the wrong way,” she finally asked. “What if, instead of trying to _get_ information from them, we need to _give_ information to them?”


	6. Chapter 6

Sabrina could almost feel the storm clouds building around her head as she jammed the buttons to activate the hidden elevator in the Mansion. It had taken her two hours of tossing and turning to finally get to sleep the night before – even with Nooroo nuzzling up to her to calm her emotions – and even then her dreams were troubled. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had woken up with a splitting headache after spending most of the previous two days transformed while hunting through the emotions of twelve million people, searching for a single recognizable emotion that would clue her in to Chloe’s whereabouts. They were out of coffee at home – Sabrina supposed that the two pots she’d drunk the day before hadn’t exactly helped her sleeping pattern, either, for that matter – and her father had forgotten to restock.

The moment the elevator plate dropped below the floor, Nooroo phased out of his accustomed pocket in her shirt and sat down on her shoulder, leaning his head up against her neck and chin and beating his wings in a soothing rhythm. Sabrina closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath and hold it.

“Good morning, Sabrina!” Max called the moment the elevator had deposited her in the underground cavern. He appeared to have just arrived as well, leaning against the alien spaceship alongside the cave wall next to his lab. “What–”

“Don’t even start!” she interrupted, stalking over to him and holding up a hand to cut him off. “I didn’t sleep right, I haven’t had my coffee yet, and some _moron_ forgot to install a coffeemaker at Headquarters! You would think not having a coffeemaker was our first clue that this used to be a _super-villain’s_ lair! What self-respecting heroes don’t have coffee!?! Ugh! Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” She threw her arms up in the air to emphasize the point.

Max started at her, eyes wide and jaw dropped open in shock. “I… was unaware that you _drank_ coffee,” he stammered eventually.

“I guess there’s a _lot_ we don’t know,” she retorted acidly, eyes flashing darkly. “Caffeine headaches being my _other_ superpower is just the _least_ of what we don’t know at the moment.”

“Well,” he began hesitantly, “I cannot solve _all_ the problems of the universe – yet, anyways! However, if you will excuse me, I shall endeavor to solve _one_ of them.” And with that he edged past her and positively sprinted to the elevator, leaving Kaalki lounging on top of the spaceship and staring at Sabrina languidly.

“Just great,” Sabrina grumbled. “I’ve seen exactly one other person today, and now he’s terrified I’m going to rip his head off!”

Kaalki scoffed. “Give my kid a break,” she advised, biting a piece off a carrot stick. “For as book-smart as he is, he doesn’t exactly… _get_ … things like emotions and people. But please: do continue; this just now was better than a soap opera!”

Sabrina groaned and turned away. “I’m glad _someone_ is enjoying this,” she called over her shoulder acerbically, walking over to the grotto and ignoring the Kwami’s reply. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the wildflowers growing around Emilie Agreste’s pod. At least it was peaceful in here. After the last couple days, she could finally understand why Hawk Moth had spent so much of his time in the lair, and why he had built this grotto in such a way to amplify the miraculous’ empathic abilities. There were no sounds to disturb her; a quirk of the grotto’s construction absorbed most outside noise. All she could hear was the soft fluttering of wings from the specially-bred butterflies that had begun to grow wild after Hawk Moth’s arrest.

With a sigh, she sat down cross-legged on the square bamboo mat she had placed to the side of the pod, between the pod and the small table holding the Box of the Miraculous. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing: in for ten seconds, hold for ten seconds, out for ten seconds. In, hold, out. She placed her hands on her knees with the palms facing up and started rubbing her thumbs in gentle circles on her palms. In, hold, out. She could feel her own emotional turmoil, roiling like waves crashing against the seashore. She recognized her fear, her anxiety, her sadness. All of it was inside of her, and all of it would blind her to the emotions around her if she could not control it. In, hold, out. Her heart rate slowed as she relaxed, allowing her own emotions to bleed out. In, hold, out. Although the headache remained, she could master it. In, hold, out.

“Nooroo,” she whispered softly, “Bright wings rise.” She kept her eyes closed as lavender light washed over her. She continued her slow, steady breathing as she pushed her senses out further. Turning her focus on the mansion, she could sense anxiety from Max, who was pacing the entryway in agitation. She felt a twinge of shame for having snapped at him, but released it into the atmosphere and turned her attention away from the mansion, spreading out to scan the city in expanding concentric rings. First she found Le Grand Paris and sifted through the hundreds of emotional sources within to find the one she was looking for: Mayor Bourgeois. He seemed to be in his bedroom, exuding nervous energy. Vaguely she remembered her father mentioning a council meeting scheduled for that night, and a recent exposé in the papers about government overspending. Next to him in the room was another person, filled with the kind of smug arrogance and condescension that could only come from Audrey Bourgeois. Impératrice Pourpre snorted: _No wonder he hasn’t questioned Chloe’s decision to stay with a dozen different friends for the week!_

Next she shifted her focus, looking for the specific emotional auras of the other heroes. She found Rose, Juleka, and Luka easily; all three of them were on the Couffaines’ houseboat, along with Ivan, Mylène, and Kagami – it must be a Kitty Section rehearsal. Kim was in the park with Alix; their exhilaration and competitiveness made them stand out in any emotional crowd. Nathaniel she found at the park also, feeling extremely pleased and excited. M. Damocles was in his office at the collège, bored. That just left… Anansi, Alya, and Nino, all of whom she found asleep in the Cèsaires’ apartment. After Anansi spent half the night shaking down criminals and Alya stayed up late making preparations for that night’s mission, she supposed that was only fair.

All but one of the Heroes were accounted for. But that one was the problem.

Impératrice Pourpre didn’t open her eyes as she felt Max’s anxiety approaching her. Empathically she followed him to the office, down the elevator, and across the cave until he stopped just outside the grotto. That was when she smelled the coffee.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” she asked, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him.

Max scuffed the dirt with his shoe awkwardly before crossing the space and kneeling to place the coffee mug just in front of her mat. “I admit, I had some concerns regarding my safety if I disturbed you, Sabrina,” he told her, carefully avoiding her eyes.

Impératrice Pourpre de-transformed, picked up the mug, and downed half in a single gulp. She closed her eyes, inhaled the rich aroma, sighed, and opened them again. She smiled gratefully when she saw that Max was in the process of setting up a coffeemaker on the ground beside the table holding the Box of the Miraculous. “You are amazing,” she observed, finishing off the coffee and setting the mug down to wait for the new pot to finish brewing.

“Um…”

Sabrina giggled softly. “I’m sorry for snapping at you before,” she confessed. “It’s been… a stressful couple days.”

Max knelt on the grass next to her and wordlessly refilled her mug. “I understand,” he told her, handing the mug back. “If Kim were the one missing, I do not know if I would be able to cope with the situation, either. Even if he _did_ try to adopt a _bear_ last week!” he added, making a face.

She laughed. “The two of you are such an odd pair,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re nothing alike. Kim is super athletic and doesn’t always… think things through?”

Max grinned. “ _That_ is putting it mildly! He once thought it was a good idea to take a bet that he could swim the Seine from one end of Paris to the other on a single breath!”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I suppose that means you can understand my friendship with Chloe better than the others?” she asked. When he gave her a small nod, she went on, “I know how it must look to everyone else. Looking back, the first ten years of our friendship were wrong on so many levels! Chloe expected everyone around her to treat her like royalty, and treated them like ‘peasants.’ Including me.” She made a face. “Most of the time, she treated me like a servant, and no better than the butlers and maids who raised her. And for all those years, I thought that was perfectly normal for a friendship. Chloe needed me, and I could take care of her. That’s what friends do, right? Sure, she would get angry at me or push me away, but I was just getting on her nerves. Perfectly normal, right?”

She glanced over to see a concerned look on Max’s face and shook her head ruefully. “Now that I know better, I see just how manipulative and needy she was. And yet… even knowing all of that, I can’t imagine my life without her in it,” she admitted. “Especially now. In the last year, Chloe has completely turned around. I suppose at least part of that is because we didn’t see each other for most of the summer. Chloe was off on hero business with you all, and I spent most of the summer hanging out with Rose, Juleka, and Mylène. Seeing how they interacted – they didn’t actually expect me to do everything for them! – it helped me realize what true friendship was really like. And at the same time, Chloe started trying to be a better person, too!”

Max nodded in agreement. “I have observed her to be far more selfless and supportive of others this year than any year previous,” he told her.

“She actually started asking what _I_ wanted to talk about, instead of insisting that we talk about her all the time,” Sabrina continued, smiling wistfully. “It’s like she became a different person. And now my best friend is out there somewhere. Out of all the heroes, _I_ ’m the one who should be able to help her the most, but I can’t even find her.”

Max took her hand. “I promise you, we will find Chloe,” he told her earnestly, finally meeting her eyes. “We will _not_ abandon her.”

Sabrina could feel tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes on hearing his sincerity. Without thinking about it, Sabrina dropped the now-empty mug in the soft grass, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Max knelt stiffly for a moment before slowly bringing his arms around her and patting her back awkwardly. Feeling uncomfortable, she shifted to sit next to him on the grass and leaned her head on his shoulder. He shifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders and squeezed gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“You are welcome,” he murmured back before loosening his arm around her shoulder. Sabrina leaned away and he stood up. “Now if you will excuse me,” he announced, taking a step toward the doorway, “I am going to run more scans on the traffic cameras and finish making Alya’s trackers.” He stopped and looked back down at her. “But if you need me…”

“I know where to find you,” she nodded. “And Max? Thanks.”

He smiled and left.

Sabrina picked up her mug and refilled it before returning to her mat. Nooroo was sitting on the coffeemaker and watching her with a smile.

“This is the most contented you have felt in days, Mistress,” he observed, flying over to sit on her knee. “I am… pleased.”

Sabrina smiled and leaned back, her palms on the ground. “I am, too, Nooroo,” she agreed, closing her eyes. “We really are better off together than separate.” Suddenly she sat up and turned to look at the Box of the Miraculous. “Hang on,” she began slowly. “Nooroo, what would happen _exactly_ if I combined the Butterfly and Peafowl Miraculous?”

“Duusu is the Kwami of Emotion,” Nooroo explained slowly. “As a consequence, his empathic ability is greater even than my own, and that carries over to his holder just as mine does, even when not transformed. However, his miraculous is still damaged. The impact on you would be minimal if you merely _activate_ the miraculous, and it would extend your range measurably. However, using it to transform would be a dangerous proposition. Unifying a damaged miraculous with an undamaged one would reduce the risk to the user, but it would instead place that strain on the undamaged miraculous.”

Sabrina nodded and considered. “It wouldn’t hurt to just _activate_ it to heighten my empathy, would it?” she asked. “If I don’t transform with it, I mean.”

“It is your decision, Mistress.” She could sense both trust and worry emanating from him.

Looking around nervously, Sabrina pushed herself up, walked to the Box, opened it, and removed the Peafowl Miraculous. As she pinned it to her blouse directly below the Butterfly Miraculous, a blue light shot out of it and resolved into a Kwami.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure about this plan?”

Rena Rouge rolled her eyes, though Max couldn’t actually see her. “Of course I’m sure,” she replied for the fifth time in an hour. “As far as we know, Lynchpin doesn’t know that we’re on to him, so he has no reason to doubt the information. This puts his people in motion, and that gives me a chance to follow them. If we’re lucky, they will lead me straight to Chloe.”

“Just… I have run the simulation 17 times. You _do_ understand that this plan has a 60% chance of _not_ leading you to Chloe, a 15% chance of warning Lynchpin, and only a 25% chance of success, correct?”

“We don’t exactly have many options,” she pointed out. “Just send the message.” Rena Rouge lay flat on the roof across the loading yard from the warehouse they were planning to “attack,” using a pile of roofing tiles she had shifted slightly the night before as cover to avoid being seen. The pile cast a long shadow over her in the setting sun. Anansi had been watching this particular warehouse for a month; she was convinced that Lynchpin had a counterfeiting ring operating out of it, but had been waiting for them to move some sort of product before revealing her surveillance operation. Rena Rouge snorted. _After tonight, consider the operation revealed!_ Below her on the ground, Carapace hid behind a delivery truck, waiting for the signal. Another truck drove up and parked between Carapace’s position and the warehouse, and its driver got out and walked into the warehouse.

A low tone played through Rena Rouge’s earpiece: Max had received a message back from “Queen Bee.” Rena Rouge held her flute up to one eye, using it as a telescope to watch the warehouse entrance. Carapace slid out from behind the truck and raced forward.

“You had better be careful, babe,” she muttered.

She could hear his grin when Carapace replied, “Relax, babe. Remember, _I_ ’m the careful one!”

“Just _you_ remember, _babe_ ,” she retorted, biting back a grin of her own, “if you die tonight, I _will_ kill you!”

“If Carapace is killed tonight,” Max interjected, “you will not have to concern yourself with that. Ladybug will murder _both_ of you! And there is a 75% chance she will murder _me_ as well for condoning this plan!”

“You get the feeling someone’s listening in on our romantic banter, babe?” Rena Rouge teased. The warehouse doors opened, and a dozen men with guns poured out.

“Sure sounds like it,” Carapace observed. He held up his shield to deflect the fusillade of bullets as the gunmen opened up on him. Rena Rouge shifted her focus to the corners of the warehouse, waiting for whatever trap Lynchpin would spring.

“If this is what qualifies for flirting with you two, I would recommend seeing a therapist!” joked Max.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Rena Rouge muttered, rolling her eyes. The group in front of the warehouse had by this point taken defensive positions behind strategically-placed shipping crates. “Carapace, you’ve got another group coming out of the warehouse to your right,” she called. “Get around to the other side of the truck next to you. That will keep them from pinning you down in the crossfire.”

Without acknowledging the advice, Carapace raced forward, shuffled to one side in front of the truck, and stepped backward, putting the delivery truck’s engine block between himself and the new gunmen. Rena Rouge pulled out the display screen on her flute and shifted through the feeds from the surveillance cameras she had installed the night before. A pair of SUVs had just pulled up on either side of the building on which she was hiding.

“It’s going to get really crowded really fast down there, babe,” she called, backing away from the roof edge and crawling to the opposite end of the roof. “It might take a minute to tag all the vehicles, so you’ll be on your own.”

The only response that she got back was a grunt and a slam. And then the gunfire started from either side of her warehouse.

Rena Rouge’s heart nearly stopped.

“Shell-ter!”

Her heart started beating again. “You stupid Turtle!” she nearly screamed. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” Dropping to the ground and pulling trackers out of a pouch at her waist, she darted around the corner and slid feet-first across the alleyway, affixing trackers to the two SUVs on that side as she passed. She grabbed the bumper of the second SUV before she’d passed it entirely, and pulled herself up into a sprinter’s pose behind its trunk. Racing across behind the building, she repeated the maneuver to tag the other two SUVs.

“Sorry, babe,” Carapace told her, “There were a couple of them waiting in the back of the truck to ambush me, and I had to take care of them before throwing up the Shell-ter.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” she promised, irritation bleeding through her voice. “For now… Mirage!” Rena Rouge blew a note on her flute and concentrated on the image she wanted to create before throwing the ball that appeared at the end of it.

The ball landed in the middle of the alley behind the warehouse and coalesced into images of all the Heroes of Paris (except Carapace and Queen Bee). Rena Rouge leapt back up to the top of the building as the Mirage-heroes disappeared down the street. Carapace was sitting calmly inside a Shell-ter dome with his legs crossed, watching dispassionately as the mass of gunmen surrounding his position fired uselessly at the force field. Meanwhile, Rena Rouge directed the Mirage-heroes to run two blocks over, turn right, race around the next building over, and charge out into the loading yard. As they became visible to the mass of gunmen, Mirage-Ryoku shot Mirage-lightning at the streetlight in the middle of the yard at the same moment that Rena Rouge threw her flute at it, shattering the bulb and plunging the yard into darkness. The crowd surrounding Carapace dispersed instantly the moment Mirage-Taureau Dechaine shouted, “Stampede!”

Rena Rouge watched from above as the gunmen retreated into the SUVs. Their headlights came on as the engines turned over, and all four tore off in the same direction away from the warehouse.

“Are you all right here, Carapace?” she asked, taking off in pursuit.

“Just super, babe!” he replied. “I think that little light show convinced the guys inside that this might be a good opportunity to explore alternate employment: they’re bailing like crazy.”

The next building in Rena Rouge’s path – an apartment building on the border of the arrondissement – was several floors taller than the warehouse she was running across. She took a flying leap, caught her claws in the masonry, and climbed hand-over-hand to the top of the building. Running across the roof at top speed, she could just barely see the line of SUVs in the distance. One broke off from the others and turned toward the Seine. “Pegasus, they’re splitting up,” she reported. “You’re still following the trackers, right?”

“Affirmative, Rena.”

“Send Anansi the location for the group of three,” she told him. “I’m going to follow the lone one.” She jumped across the street above the streetlights, momentarily grateful that it was a cloudy night. Her miraculous was beeping, but not incessantly; she had noticed lately that her transformation timer was lengthening.

The SUV turned to drive along the riverfront, picking up speed as it snaked around the heart of the city to the west. The SUV was just passing a familiar dock; thanks to her miraculous-enhanced vision, Rena Rouge could just make out Juleka standing on the top deck of the Couffaines’ houseboat. Idly, she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t call Bengalia or Viperion for backup. She shrugged: if she found anything, she could bring in the cavalry. For now, she was just gathering information.

Just before it would have left the city, the SUV turned into the parking lot of a warehouse that sat right up against the river. Rena Rouge dropped onto the roof of the warehouse next door and crouched down, careful to avoid being silhouetted by the light fixture on one corner of the building. A man carrying a long object – she assumed a gun – was standing near the far corner of the warehouse, facing the street away from her. She watched a trio of men exit the SUV and walk into the warehouse. The last one into the building scanned the grounds once before shutting the door.

“What are you doing here?” Rena Rouge muttered to herself. She knelt near the roof edge to consider her options. The warehouse was certainly large enough to house a prisoner; they could hold _several_ prisoners here! At the same time, she had only seen the single guard, and she would have expected Lynchpin to deploy a little more security if he had a hero held prisoner here. This could be the right place, but they couldn’t act without more information. She had to get closer.

Rena Rouge backed away from the edge, checked her surroundings carefully, and de-transformed to recharge. As she did so, she watched the guard take a leisurely lap around the warehouse. She timed that he would spend at least two minutes out of view from her. The moment he had disappeared around the warehouse on his next circuit, she raced across the roof and leapt, aiming to land on the electric pole halfway between her building and the target. Without losing speed she jumped the remaining distance and rolled on the warehouse roof. Her boots clattered on the roofing material as she came up in a crouch. She held her breath, ears straining for a reaction from within. Hearing nothing, she allowed herself to relax. She slipped her flute from its place on her back and extended it as far as it could go. Crawling to the roof’s edge, she held the flute down as a periscope to peek in through one of the high windows. Looking through the other end, she couldn’t see anything clear at first. After some adjustment, however, she could see the interior.

The warehouse was a single open space lined with tables. Women wearing face masks stood along both sides of the tables, sorting something into small plastic bags. Zooming in as far as her flute-periscope would allow, Rena Rouge could see that each row of tables held what looked like a different type of drug. A dozen tough-looking guys lounged against the far wall, joking and playing cards. _No Chloe; just drug packaging and distribution here_. She frowned and made a mental note to let Anansi know about this place.

Rena Rouge was just about to crawl back from the edge and leave when she heard a definite _thud_ behind her. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, she rolled over and sprang to her knees, quick as lightning, to see who was there. She expected a half-dozen thugs to rush her and try to pin her down and steal her miraculous. Instead, she saw a pair of guys lying face down on the roof, about five meters from where she had been lying. Rena Rouge approached cautiously, holding her flute in an iron grip, to see that they had been struck in the back of the head. She looked around to find the person who had saved her, but could see no one.

“I guess Bengalia decided to go for a run,” she murmured. “I’ll have to thank her next time I see her.” Then she dove off the warehouse into the river and swam away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juleka's story is in "The Queen is Dead: Mission Logs," [Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791269/chapters/60148498).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should probably come with a trigger warning for physical and psychological torture. Nothing explicit, nothing overtly sexual, but you have been warned.

Chloe groaned blearily. Her eyes burned from the unforgiving light in the room. Her only respite from the light came from pulling her torn, bloody shirt up over her face, taking some of the edge away from the sheer brightness. Days and nights blurred together entirely with no frame of reference by which to tell them apart. At first she had tried to count days by the number of meals they fed her, but even that fell apart when she lost track – she could have sworn that some of the meals were coming too close together for it to be a mealtime. Her throat burned and prickled. Her lips were raw and chapped. About the only positive to their “meals” was that they were so sparse she had hardly had to _use_ the bucket in the corner. She had no idea how much time she slept or how much time she was awake – or if what she _was_ at the moment could even be considered one or the other.

They had asked her questions, of course. Every few meals she would get a visit from one of Lynchpin’s cronies, a man who wore button-down shirts with the top several buttons undone to show his chest hair, who would ask her a string of questions. At first she had refused to answer, but that just made him angry. After one too many open-palmed slaps across the face, she had finally started talking.

“What is your name?”

“Queen Bee.”

“Where is the Heroes’ base?”

“Disneyland.”

“Who is Cat Noir?”

“Mickey Mouse.”

“Who is Ladybug?”

“Cinderella.”

Her interrogator hadn’t appreciated those answers much, either, but Chloe had at least taken a perverse sort of pleasure in egging him on – even if every response still earned her a slap. Imagining Lynchpin’s goons running around Disneyland Paris and interrogating the princesses had given her something to laugh at; the idea of them kidnapping a Mickey Mouse and a Cinderella and forcing them to ride Big Thunder Mountain until they threw up as “torture” still made her giggle deliriously.

At least they had left her the cot, though they had taken away the mattress. The springs dug into her back and made it impossible for her to lie comfortably. However, even without sheets or a mattress, it was better than curling up on the cold concrete floor with nothing but her ruined shirt for warmth.

The only thing keeping her going was her desire to find her miraculous, to rescue Pollen. Some of the time she couldn’t even remember the rest of her plan.

The door creaked open slowly, and the same doctor who had seen her on the first day ( _was it the first day?_ ) entered. Chloe pushed herself up into a sitting position on the cot, her back against the wall, and forced herself into at least a semblance of alertness. The last time he had visited her had been after her first beating and before her first conversation with Lynchpin; this visit couldn’t bode any better.

The doctor, who appeared paler since she had last seen him, approached her slowly and held a glass out to her. She licked her dry lips, tried to resist, but dove forward, grabbing the glass out of his hands. She drank the whole glass in a single long greedy gulp before looking back up at the doctor eagerly. He, however, simply took the glass away from her and grabbed her chin roughly, tilting it to either side to examine her sore, reddened cheeks.

He clucked disapprovingly as he used both hands to force her mouth open and poked at her teeth. “If you make them hit you too many more times, you might actually lose some teeth,” he warned her, gesturing for her to lie flat on her back. “Pretty face like yours, punishment like this doesn’t suit you.”

Chloe bit back a scathing reply and refused to budge. The doctor frowned, put his hands on her shoulders, and forced her to lie down on her back. He ran his hands down both sides of her chest, checking all of her bruised and cracked ribs, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in agony. One hand strayed onto her stomach, and it was only through force of will that she didn’t flinch away – surely he would only do something worse if she reacted? One of her still-mending ribs shifted under his fingers, and Chloe could swear she tasted blood. By the time the “examination” was over, Chloe was nearly panting from the stress, humiliation, and pain.

The doctor stepped back as the door opened again. The doctor exited, to be replaced by a half-dozen large men who crammed themselves into the tiny room. Chloe sat up on the cot, adjusted her shirt, pulled her knees to her chin, and eyed them warily. She could probably have fought her way past them early on in her imprisonment, but now? She would be lucky to avoid any more broken bones. Without her miraculous, she was helpless.

The man in the front of the group, the same man she had cut on her first day ( _or was it the second day?_ ), cracked his knuckles. “Who is Ladybug?” he asked, glowering at her.

Chloe tried to put a questioning look on her face, scrunching up her eyes and frowning. A glance at the man’s face showed he wasn’t impressed. “‘Ladybug’?” she repeated slowly. “Sorry, it doesn’t ring a bell.”

He punched the wall next to Chloe’s head. The wall vibrated with the blow, and his knuckles came away bloody. In spite of herself, Chloe jumped. She lifted up her hands in front of her face and closed her eyes. “No, wait! I–” She steeled herself and forced herself to take a breath. “Ladybug is the Hero of Paris,” she answered, opening her eyes and glaring at him defiantly, putting as much force behind the look as she had left.

Her name,” the man growled. “Her _real_ name.”

Chloe shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I just call her Ladybug.” His eyes flashed with hatred. “Wait… there is another name I call her…” She smirked. “‘Sweetie.’”

The man punched the wall on the other side of her head, leaned in close, and glared into her face, his nose centimeters from her own. Chloe could smell his rancid breath.

“You know, ‘sweetie’?” she went on, starting to laugh hysterically. “Because I’m Queen Bee? And bees make honey, and honey is sweet? And you _really_ need something sweet because your _breath_!” She held her nose and faked gagging. “Phew!”

“You think I need something _sweet_?” he asked, leaning even closer, so close their noses almost touched, and raising an eyebrow. He glanced down the front of her rumpled and torn shirt. “You offering, _sweetie_?”

Chloe gulped, staring up into his empty eyes, her own eyes widening in fear. Unconsciously she wrapped her arms around her chest, pulling her shirt’s neckline tight in an attempt at modesty.

“Enough!” barked a mechanical voice. Chloe couldn’t believe she was actually _grateful_ to hear Lynchpin’s voice. One of the men behind her interrogator held a cell phone; that was where the voice had come from. “You will not harm Mlle Bourgeois, Rene. We wouldn’t want our guest feeling… put out.”

The hairs on the back of Chloe’s neck stood up on end upon hearing the ripple of jeering laughter that worked its way through her tormenters at that. She forced her facial muscles still; letting them see any more of her fear would only encourage them.

“Now, Mlle Bourgeois,” Lynchpin’s voice continued, “I hope that the accommodations are to your liking. I must apologize for the unfortunate lengths to which my… enthusiastic… associates have gone. I assure you that I have no desire to see you injured! I will, of course, replace them all. However, it will ease the process along if you could share some information.”

“What do you want to know?” Chloe asked thickly. She desperately needed water.

“ _Sweetie_ , I want to know everything.”

Chloe was silent for a minute. One thought rang out over everything else: she could not give Lynchpin anything. She could not let this monster win. But she was so far past her breaking point that she didn’t know if she could keep her mouth _shut_. Were it not for the ever-dimming memory of her friends, the knowledge – coming and going though it was – that Sabrina could find her if she simply _felt_ , she would have given up in despair. But she would not give up. She would not give in. She would _not_ betray her friends.

Lynchpin was still speaking to her. “How did you meet the other heroes? The whole world knows you _found_ the miraculous, but after that. How did you meet them?”

“Comic Con,” she ground out, glaring at the phone

“That’s funny,” replied the phone. “You’re a socialite _and_ a comedian! Must play well for the peasants. If you won’t tell me about how you met them, perhaps you can tell me about how you communicate. Surely you aren’t using a Bee Signal anymore, are you?”

“Nah, the bulb broke,” Chloe replied, forcing a smirk onto her face. “I put a lowlife wannabe gangster’s head through it last month. Insurance refused to pay. These days we’ve gone high-tech. Sometimes you see smoke coming out of the sewer grates. We use that for smoke signals. Put your nose down there some time and take a whiff. We can have a whole conversation and it’s just Cat literally blowing smoke out his ass…” She trailed off. “Or at least that’s what it sounds like when Pegasus starts talking techno-babble,” she mumbled.

“Ah, so the Horse is your tech guru, then?” Lynchpin asked. “Very interesting…”

 _Crap_. “Did I say that?” Chloe backtracked. “No, you must have misheard me… King Monkey!” she shouted. “King Monkey is the tech genius in the group, not Pegasus. No way he could do it.”

“I’m sure,” commented Lynchpin, sounding amused – _how does he give a voice scrambler so much emotion?_ “Now, about their identities. Who are your friends?”

“Well, I’ve got a lot of friends,” Chloe answered, laughing shrilly. “I’m a friendly person, in case you didn’t notice. _Everyone_ ’s my friend. I’d like to be _your_ friend now, too! So how about it? Why don’t you tell me your name and we can braid each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails and go to movies together!” By the end, she was practically laughing deliriously, her head leaning back against the wall.

Lynchpin laughed mockingly. “I think not. But I can think of one thing that might convince you to cooperate. Tell me, Mlle Bourgeois, what is the one thing you want more than anything else?”

Chloe clamped her mouth shut, her lips pressed in a thin line.

“Power. You want power, and the miraculous gives you power. So, if I returned the Bee Miraculous to you, would you tell me the name… of Ladybug?”

Chloe was too exhausted to control her emotions any longer. She leaned back and closed her eyes, the disbelief clear in her expression. Lynchpin offered her the one thing she wanted – and for completely the wrong reason. Here was her goal: recover her miraculous and rescue Pollen from Lynchpin’s control. She had no doubts about what Lynchpin would do with Pollen – or about what that would do _to_ Pollen, to be used for whatever evil purposes Lynchpin could devise. She had watched Sabrina and Nooroo work through the aftereffects of Nooroo’s two-year trauma together over the past eight months. It was hard on a Kwami to be used in a manner that imbalances the world – to be abused. She could save Pollen from that fate… but it would cost her dearly.

Of course, this was _Lynchpin_ : a dim part of her subconscious warned her that she couldn’t trust a single word that came out of Lynchpin’s distorted mouth. If she was lucky, Lynchpin would return the miraculous and force her to turn on the Heroes by threatening her father or Sabrina; more likely, Lynchpin’s henchmen would just dump her body in the river – and, if she was _really_ lucky, they would _just_ murder her first.

But still…

_I’m sorry, Mar. You know I can’t keep my mouth shut._

“Okay,” Chloe groaned. “I’ll do it. But the miraculous had _better_ be in the building.”

“Of course it is. Now, what is Ladybug’s name?”

“Her name… is… Lila Rossi.”

Chloe held her breath, waiting to see what Lynchpin would do with the information. Would he thank her and have his men leave? Would he let them have their way with her now that he thought he had what he wanted? Would he not react at all?

She did not expect him to start laughing uproariously and giggle like a schoolgirl, before a cacophony came through the phone as though the receiver had just been dropped on the floor.

“‘Lila Rossi.’ You thought I would buy _Lila Rossi_ as Ladybug??? The person with the record for most Akumatizations during Hawk Moth’s reign of terror??? _That_ Lila Rossi?”

_Oh. Right._

The phone was silent for a moment. “Congratulations, Mlle Bourgeois,” Lynchpin continued finally, a dismissive edge to the digital voice. “You’ve utterly stymied all my interrogation techniques. I guess you will be of no further use to me. Gentlemen?”

Chloe’s eyes widened in fear as the men standing around all moved in closer. One handed the leader – Rene – a crowbar, which he slapped against his palm, eyeing Chloe and licking his lips predatorily. Chloe pushed herself up from the cot and backed up, pushing herself into the farthest corner of the room. This was it. Lynchpin had no more interest in information. Chloe Bourgeois had finally accomplished something she’d (unintentionally) been trying to do for years: she had managed to actually drive someone into a homicidal rage.

Rene swung the crowbar, and Chloe pushed herself as far back into the corner as she could. She whimpered in pain as the crowbar glanced off her arm.

She had only one chance left if she was going to survive. Everything that had happened in the last – had it been a week? – every emotion she had been suppressing since she first woke up in this hellhole, came boiling to the surface at once, overflowing in a mass of anger and fear and pain and terror. Chloe screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

Impératrice Pourpre opened her eyes when Max stepped into the grotto and sat down across from her. “I wondered if you were going to come today,” she commented, smiling.

“I am only here briefly,” he replied, chuckling. “Considering that Mme Tsurugi is _technically_ compensating me for tutoring Kagami this week, I need to _actually_ tutor her at some point this week! Otherwise, she may decide my services are no longer required, and Kagami loses this cover story. Markov and I are simply here to check on Turing’s progress analyzing the data collected so far from the warehouse operation.”

“Did you come up with _anything_?”

“Unfortunately, Alya’s mission was only partially-successful,” he told her, frowning. “We identified a trio of warehouses connected to Lynchpin’s operation, but none are holding prisoners. Bengalia placed surveillance cameras last night to watch them, but there is less than 23% probability that this will lead us to Chloe’s location.”

Impératrice Pourpre pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, frowning. “I’m worried,” she admitted, staring at the ground between them. “Why keep her this long? If they just wanted her miraculous, they could have taken it and left her behind. Do they want information from her? They’ve got to realize that the risk increases the longer they hold her, right? Eventually, whatever cover story they were feeding her father is going to fall through. He is going to get suspicious sooner or later, and then they’ll be in all kinds of trouble. Everyone knows he would call out the army to find her! And that’s not even considering what _we_ would do to rescue one of our own – and they have to know it.”

She glanced up to see Max frowning, looking into the distance. Almost without conscious effort, she focused in on his emotions: troubled, worried… dread?

Her eyes flew open. “You… you think they’re going to kill her, don’t you?”

His emotions shifted to surprise and then slight amusement. “I will not ask how you came to that conclusion,” he replied, one corner of his mouth turning up into a tiny smile before dropping back into a frown. “I think… it is a possibility,” he admitted. “If they have no further use for her, then killing her would eliminate a witness, deprive us of a resource, and enable them to cover their tracks. However,” he quickly added, as Impératrice Pourpre opened her mouth to protest, “there is only a 10% possibility of that, and only if they have no further use for her. Knowing Chloe, I calculate a 75% chance that she has not divulged any information to them yet. Until that happens, she is safe. Unfortunately, the longer this continues, the greater the likelihood that they will break her. And when that happens, they will no longer have a use for her and will likely… dispose of her.”

Impératrice Pourpre felt her heart pounding in her chest. She almost couldn’t breathe. She could feel the walls closing in, fear building oppressively in the air around her – with a start she realized it was coming from _her_. She closed her eyes and forced herself to _breathe_ : in, hold, out. She barely felt Max put his hand on top of hers.

“We will find her,” he promised, putting his other hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “My scans have already eliminated approximately half of the city’s arrondissements, and Turing and Markov are working through them at a rate of one every seven hours.”

“That’s still three days,” she told him, opening her eyes and staring at him pleadingly. “At that point they will have had her for over a week. Can Chloe hold out that long?”

“We will have to hope so,” he replied, mouth twisting in a grimace.

Impératrice Pourpre nodded, folded her legs, and gave him a look.

“Unfortunately, Mme Tsurugi is expecting me in two minutes,” Max said, checking his watch before transforming.

She nodded in resignation. “I’ll be okay. I’ll keep an eye on things here and let you know if we find anything,” she called as the portal closed behind him.

After another hour of combing through emotions, Impératrice Pourpre pushed herself to her feet and stretched her arms and neck to work out the kinks from spending so long sitting in one position. Then she walked over to the coffeemaker, refilled her mug, and turned to go back to her mat. She paused, however, considering the Miracle Box that stood on its table behind the coffeemaker. Chloe was running out of time and, Max’s programs notwithstanding, the Heroes were running out of options. “The Peafowl Miraculous _did_ increase my range …” she murmured. “And that was _without_ unifying them. I wonder…”

She pulled out the Peafowl Miraculous and pinned it to her chest, directly below the Butterfly Miraculous. The blue light shot out and formed into Duusu.

“Miss Sabrina!” he squeaked flying around the grotto in excited circles at a dizzying speed. “Twice in three days! This is so amazing! _You_ ’re so amazing! I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait!!!”

“Slow down, Duusu!” Impératrice Pourpre told the Kwami, forcing herself to smile. The Kwami’s feathers drooped; she realized too late that he was picking up on her tension and anxiety. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Sabrina,” Duusu said, hovering directly in front of her and dropping lower. “I forgot your friend is missing.” He perked up and fanned out his feathers, clapping his paws together in excitement. “But we’re going to find her today!”

“Definitely,” Impératrice Pourpre agreed. “But first I need to know: what will happen to Nooroo if I unify you?”

“Hmm,” Duusu rubbed his chin contemplatively. “It’s not entirely clear,” he finally told her. “Unifying with a damaged miraculous isn’t something the Guardians ever recommended. Hawk Moth and Mayura never attempted it after my miraculous was damaged. A damaged miraculous takes a toll on both the Kwami and the user, of course. Adding a second Kwami to the mix will reduce the strain on you and me, but put more strain on Nooroo. But what that will actually do? You certainly risk weakness, shortness of breath, energy drain… the usual.” He shrugged. “For Nooroo, his energy may be thrown out of balance if too much of my energy leaks in… He may be weak and unable to transform you for a few days afterward… But that is just a guess.”

“So if I do this, I might be able to find Chloe faster, but I might also be unable to transform for a few days afterward if I _don’t_ find her this time. Great.” Impératrice Pourpre frowned. “It seems like this week we’ve got nothing _but_ bad options.” She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Somewhere out there, Chloe was being held a prisoner, and she still couldn’t sense her anywhere. Even if Max’s programs did eventually locate Chloe, who knows if she would still be alive? And here, she had a tool that could help her locate Chloe right now… maybe. _What would Chloe do for one of us? What would she do if our roles were reversed?_ Impératrice Pourpre braced herself. “Right, well, Nooroo, Duusu, Unify.”

Paonne Pourpre nearly collapsed to the floor as the blue light flashed around her. The coffee cup fell from her from her slack grip. She stumbled backward and caught herself against the pod with one hand, shaking her head against the sudden bout of light-headedness. She stood for a moment, her other hand rubbing her forehead, until her head stopped spinning. Then she slowly eased herself down onto her mat and returned to her meditation posture.

The emotions around her came into much sharper focus as she extended her reach outward from herself to encompass first the mansion, then the block, then the arrondissement. Each new emotional well she found, she was nearly blown away by the depth and variation of the emotions she experienced. As before, she could sense their strongest emotions, but she could also wade beneath the surface, to see the tiny eddies and ripples in their emotional current. She examined a deep pool of emotions for what felt like hours, examining every facet of the person’s excitement and fear and anxiety, before realizing what was happening. Paonne Pourpre took a deep breath and wrenched herself away.

The next emotional pool she found was no different: she could _feel everything_. The person’s anxieties, hidden so far under the surface that even _she_ didn’t realize they were there, blazed out as clear as day for Paonne Pourpre to see. Before she could get sucked any further in, she steeled herself and pushed her awareness up further, above the people and the details. The city’s emotions were a deep ocean, one in which she could lose herself entirely if she wasn’t careful. She had to fly above the ocean and keep her focus on her target. She quickly scanned through all the emotions of the city, all of which were open to her, as clear as crystal, looking for the one unique emotional aura that she recognized as Chloe. With the improved perspective of the two miraculous together, she could locate and identify all of her friends and teammates in an instant. But there was still no Chloe.

Paonne Pourpre put a hand to her chest and gasped when she felt a shiver of dread run down her spine. _There_. A massive jolt of fear, pain, and rage, shining out like a beacon that she could have seen from space. It was on the far north side of the city, almost outside of the city limits, just barely on the edge of her normal empathic range. Taking a deep breath, Paonne Pourpre focused on the emotions, tracing them back to the source. Sure enough, in the center of it was Chloe.

Chloe was inside a building that appeared to be a medical clinic of some variety – rundown and abandoned. She was in a small room, and a group of men had her pressed back into one corner of the room. One held a crowbar and was about to strike her legs with it. Chloe jumped awkwardly over the crowbar swing, but collapsed backward against the wall, holding her arms up protectively.

She grabbed a nearby butterfly with one hand, pulled a feather from her fan in the other, concentrated on both, and released them. She nearly collapsed forward as the energy left her and entered the Akuma and Amok. “Markov!” she called weakly, bracing herself with both hands, grabbing handfuls of grass for balance, and keeping herself upright through sheer force of will. “I found her! Follow that butterfly!”

She didn’t wait for the robot’s response, instead turning her attention back to the Akuma and Amok, following their progress out of the cave and across town. She willed them to fly faster, her concentration torn between the butterfly, the feather, and the battle raging between Chloe and her captors. Chloe was still fighting to hold them off, but it was always going to be a losing battle, and she was already so weak. “Come on, come on,” Paonne Pourpre muttered.

It felt like ages later when the butterfly and feather slipped under the doorframe and into the clinic building where Chloe was being held. By now, Paonne Pourpre’s strength was flagging. The Akuma and Amok fluttered down a long hallway, past several empty rooms, and under the doorjamb into Chloe’s cell. The Akuma merged into Chloe’s hair tie. The Amok entered her sock.

“I found you,” Paonne Pourpre gasped as the telepathic connection between them formed. “Now give them hell.”

“You got it, IP,” Chloe replied, baring her teeth as yellow light bathed her.

Paonne Pourpre fell backward, out cold before her back hit the grass.


	10. Chapter 10

As the Akuma made contact with Chloe’s hair tie, she felt a sudden surge of energy flow through her body. All the exhaustion and deprivation of the last – however long it had been – dissolved and disappeared in an instant. Her broken ribs felt as though they had been knitted back together. Her cheeks stopped stinging. The soreness from the bruising on her chest, back, arms, and legs – the initial injuries sustained in her capture, those from her “interrogations,” and what she had acquired in the last three minutes, which now included bruises on her arms and legs – was all gone. She was awake, alert, and felt _alive_ for the first time in days!

“I found you,” Sabrina’s voice whispered in her head. “Now give them hell.”

“You got it, IP,” Chloe answered, baring her teeth in a feral grin as the Akuma transformed her. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your voice!” She was almost blinded by the yellow light that flowed over her from her hair tie down to her feet. She caught the top that appeared next to her right hand and spun it in a practiced loop to one side, flexed her other arm, examined the fingertips of her black gloves, looked the thugs over out of the corner of her eye, and called, “All right, boys, who’s ready to play with Sent-Bee? Rene! Care to dance first?”

Rene shook off his shock and gave her a look of disgust. He held his crowbar by both ends, pushing it inward and threatening to bend it in half, his arm muscles rippling with the effort. “This doesn’t change anything, boys!” he shouted. “Take her out!” He stepped forward, brought the crowbar up with one hand, and let out a guttural roar as he swung at Sent-Bee’s head. Sent-Bee shifted her top to counter.

Neither of them expected the massive blue paw that caught the crowbar in midair.

Sent-Bee’s jaw dropped, even as Rene aped the expression. The senti-bear burst from her sock and materialized from thin air in front of Sent-Bee, leaned over, put its face millimeters from Rene’s, and roared, blue senti-spittle flying from its mouth into Rene’s face. The crowbar fell out of Rene’s slack grip, and the senti-bear stood up on its back legs, its head brushing the ceiling, and callously swatted Rene with the back of one paw. Rene slammed into the far wall and slid down it, moaning, to land in a crumpled heap in the corner.

The floor shook as the senti-bear dropped back to all four legs. Sent-Bee threw out an arm to brace herself against the wall, even as Rene’s remaining henchmen stumbled and flailed for balance. The senti-bear let out a low growl, and charged the remaining five men in the room, mouth open and teeth bared. The men’s screams were drowned out by the senti-bear’s roar as it barreled into them, its teeth closing on the closest one’s wrist and throwing him aside to land atop Rene. In a tangle of limbs, the four surviving thugs pushed and clawed their way out of the room, the senti-bear in hot pursuit.

A quick glance showed that both Rene and the other guy still in the room were down and not moving; the second man’s wrist was oozing blood and twisted at an awkward angle. Sent-Bee turned away in disgust; all her sympathy for her tormenters had disappeared at least a day ago by her (admittedly still muddled) calculation. Rather than follow the senti-bear through the door, Sent-Bee swung her foot back and kicked straight through the wall to her right, crumbling the cement blocks and sending a cloud of masonry puffing out into the hallway beyond. She pushed on the edges of the hole to expand it before slamming her shoulder into the wall just above the hole and forcing her way out.

The senti-bear stood on its hind legs, filling up most of the corridor to her left, roaring and slamming its paws into the walls on either side. Cascades of fine powder poured down into the hallway from the walls and ceiling, blowing up and into Sent-Bee’s nostrils and mouth. She coughed and covered her mouth with one hand to keep more dust out. A sound coming from the opposite direction caught her attention. She spun around, her top coming up automatically to spin in a shield.

“Stop!” There were a dozen men standing in front of her with handguns, and beyond them she could see light through a glass door.

“Do you jackasses _really_ think you can keep me here now?” Sent-Bee asked sardonically, arching an eyebrow at them. “After all the punishment your boys dealt out to _me_ while I’ve been your guest, I think it’s time I returned the favor!” With that she leapt into the middle of the crowd, flicked her top out, and caught one around the legs. She jerked his legs out from under him, and he slammed into the floor with a crack. His head had barely landed before Sent-Bee spun around, kicked the closest thug in the gut, and punched the one next to him twice in the side. Both men collapsed in a heap against the wall. She tugged on the top string, dragging the man still trapped in it across the floor, before lifting him up half a meter into the air and sidestepping out of his way. With a cry he soared past her and bowled into the trio she’d left behind her. Two fell to the ground with their comrade on top of them, while the third dodged out of the way.

The gunshot rang out an instant before Sent-Bee could untangle her top. She lifted her left arm, a pad appeared covering her arm between the elbow and wrist, and she deflected the bullet with her forearm. Before the criminal could fire again, she dropped her arm and followed up with a right punch to his face. His head snapped backward and he flew five meters down the hallway to collide with the senti-bear’s back. The bear bellowed in surprise and dropped to sit on the man’s chest. Sent-Bee turned back to the remainder of the group bunched up between her and the door, grinning maniacally.

Several of the gunmen near the back of the mob turned on their heels to run away, sheer terror in their faces. “Oh, no you don’t!” Sent-Bee shouted. “I’m not done with you assholes yet! You’re not getting away _that_ easily! Not after everything you did to me! Venom!” Her top morphed into a squirt gun on a string, which she caught by the handle. Holding the gun in both hands, she took careful aim at the retreating figures and fired, over and over, aiming at the ones closest to the door first.

Blobs of Venom splattered on the thugs’ backs, freezing them in place and sending them tumbling to the ground. As the first one fell, blocking the doorway with his body, the man behind him got his feet tangled up in his legs and tripped. He flailed his arms around, making him an easy target for Sent-Bee. In a matter of moments, the hallway was so filled with paralyzed goons that it had become impassable for the rest. With a couple more squirts, she paralyzed the remainder. Sent-Bee grinned: she could definitely get used to having an unlimited Venom squirt gun!

But no, she needed to get Pollen back.

Footsteps from the room to her right warned her that there was still at least one threat left. She spun to face the doorway, the squirt gun reverted to a top in her hand, and she spun it in front of herself as a shield. Slowly, she stepped across the threshold into the new room.

This room appeared larger than the one in which they had kept her, at least three times its size, and looked like nothing so much as a doctor’s waiting room, with several metal chairs and a couple tables spread out around the room. Over a dozen men were all crammed into the one room and standing around her interrogator, the man in the button-up shirt who liked to show off his chest hair.

“I take it this is your break room?” Sent-Bee observed, staring them down appraisingly. “I hope so. Because if not, it will be when _I_ get done with you!”

She caught the top and charged into the middle of the room, sliding under a chair that one of them threw at her. Springing to her feet she leapt into the air, grabbed one of the exposed ceiling beams, and scissored her legs around the closest goon’s neck. She squeezed tightly – he scrabbled feebly at her legs, even as his face turned purple. She pulled him off the ground and swung his flailing body around in a single loop before releasing him to crash into another man. Both fell to the floor groaning.

Sent-Bee swung her legs once to gain momentum before releasing the ceiling beam and angling herself to fly feet-first into the man farthest away from her, twisting her body around in midair. She caught a satisfying glimpse of the shock on his face a moment before her feet connected with his shoulders, knocking him backward to the floor. She landed on top of him in a crouch and slammed her fist into his gut to balance herself as she landed – which elicited a satisfying groan from him. She looked up to find the remaining goons slowly turning to face her and whipped her top out, caught it around the closest man’s ankle and pulled his feet out from under him. He yelped as he left the ground. She swung him up to hit the ceiling and then slammed him to the floor at an angle, swinging his body into the legs of the man next to him. The two collapsed together with a grunt.

By now the shock of her blitz attack had worn off, and the ten men left standing had fanned out into a loose semi-circle around her position, guns up and pointed at her chest. Sent-Bee recalled her yo-yo and spun it in a tight circle as a shield, a moment before the muzzles around her lit up with a barrage of gunfire. Sent-Bee’s head had been splitting from the abuse and thirst of her captivity before her Akumatization; now, the adrenaline and power pumping through her body forced all other considerations – even the cacophony of the weapons going off in close quarters – out of her mind. She took a quick step forward as their magazines clicked empty, looped her top around the table a meter in front of her, and sent it spinning through the air and barreling into the four men directly in front of her. All four fell back and landed on the ground, the table upside down over their chests.

By this point the remaining six gunmen had reloaded and brought their guns to bear on her, and she was standing between the two groups of three. Without a moment to spare, Sent-Bee dropped to the ground, lashing out with her top as she did so. She lassoed one man behind her and pulled him down on top of her as a human shield against the first series of gunshots before kicking him with both feet, sending him barreling into the three men in front of her.

“You boys thought I was weak and helpless? That’s why you beat on me and mocked me? Let me show you helplessness: Venom!” Sent-Bee reeled in her top as it transformed into the squirt gun and shot a wave of Venom at the last two men standing. Both froze in place with their fingers on the triggers and fell to the ground. Sent-Bee kipped to her feet, walked over, and stomped their hands until their fingers unclasped their guns. She kicked the guns away to the far side of the room.

The leader, who had remained near the back of the room during the fighting, strode across the room to stand a meter away from her. “You think you’re so tough?” he asked, glaring at her, bringing his trembling fists up in front of his chest. “A little girl like you needs to be careful of all the dangerous men out there.”

Sent-Bee stared him down as she casually shot all the other men in the room, immobilizing them. She slid her left foot back into a fighting stance and balled her fists. Her eyes lit up with rage. “You’re the one who was in charge of this hell-hole? I’m giving you one chance, dirt-bag: answer my question, or I introduce you to your spleen! Now where is my miraculous?”


	11. Chapter 11

Alya closed her eyes and groaned, rubbing her forehead in a desperate attempt to stave off the headache that had been building since Chloe went missing. It was Wednesday. Chloe had been missing for nearly five full days. If they couldn’t find Chloe today, she would have to call in Marinette for backup, despite her desire to give her and Adrien the week off. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to force herself to relax. Nino had insisted that they take a break for couple hours at the Trocadéro before resuming the investigation. His fingers running through her hair helped soothe her frazzled nerves, but not quite enough.

“You can’t run yourself ragged on this, babe,” Nino murmured softly. “You won’t be any good to anyone if you give yourself a nervous breakdown.”

Alya looked up at his face, her head resting in his lap. “I know,” she admitted, frowning. “We’ve been running around so much this week on this search; we all need to take _some_ time to recharge – I’m starting to worry about how Sabrina’s handling this. But every moment we’re here at the park is another moment that Chloe is missing and could be…”

Nino nodded, stroking her hair. “I know what you–” He cut off as both their phones went off with the same notification sound simultaneously.

Alya’s eyes bugged out and she scrambled to a sitting position, fumbling around for the phone she’d shoved in her purse. Her hands shook from anxiety. At last Trixx pushed the phone into her hand and slipped onto her forearm to read the message with her.

“They found her!” Alya almost screamed, the phone shaking so badly in her hand that she could hardly make out the location. Nino grabbed her hand, pulled her to her feet, and took off at a dead sprint across the park, leaving behind their blanket and not stopping even when they were hidden in an alleyway just off the main street from the park.

“Wayzz, Shell on!” “Trixx, Let’s pounce!” Still holding hands, they both transformed midstride and leapt to the rooftops together. Running full-tilt, the city passed by them in a blur. They didn’t stop until they had arrived at the location Markov had sent them, an abandoned medical clinic at the far north edge of Paris. They jumped down into the parking lot just as Anansi drove through the front gate on the new yellow motorcycle Max had built for her, which he had dubbed her “Spider-Bike.” Anansi jumped off the Spider-Bike and landed next to them as it drove past. The Spider-Bike circled around to take a position close to the parking lot entrance, where it deployed its kickstand and a video camera poked out of the headlight.

A portal appeared next to the three heroes, and Pegasus and Ryoku both jumped through, Ryoku with her sword already held in front of her. “Have you seen her yet?” Pegasus demanded the moment he was through.

“We only just arrived,” Rena Rouge told him, shaking her head. Pegasus nodded and ran back to the Spider-Bike. He stopped next to it and pressed a button, causing a privacy screen to grow out of a side compartment and cover him.

“Now he’s just showing off,” Carapace muttered, grinning. He glanced at the other three before holding out his shield and leading the charge at the front door.

The group had only covered half the distance, however, when a huge section of the wall on their side of the building exploded outward in a shower of masonry, revealing a yellow-and-black figure surrounded by bodies. The figure – who looked like Queen Bee but with far more yellow in her suit and only a pair of thin black stripes across her chest and around her legs – held a man by his throat, suspended in the air. The man’s legs were kicking feebly and he fumbled limply with both hands, trying desperately to break the iron grip holding him. His face had tured deep purple. The clearly-Akumatized figure’s face was a mask of manic fury and rage.

“WHERE IS MY _MIRACULOUS_?” she screamed, lowering the man so her face was right next to his own, forcing him to stare into her rage-filled eyes. “WHERE IS POLLEN?”

“I–I swear I don’t know,” the man gasped out. “The miraculous was never here. _He_ took it the moment we got it off you.”

“If you’re lying to me, I _promise_ I will break you in half and shove your head up your–”

“Queen Bee?” Rena Rouge asked hesitantly, the tension in her chest constricting slightly at the all-too-familiar sight. “Are–are you… um… _you_ , girl?”

Chloe made a sound of disgust and tossed the man across the destroyed room where he slammed into the wall and landed in a heap. “Queen Bee is dead,” she replied, turning to face them. “It’s ‘Sent-Bee’ at the moment. And I’m fine; why _wouldn’t_ I be fine? I just got jumped and lost my miraculous. Since then I’ve just been starved, beaten, and tortured for – what the hell day is today? Friday?”

“It’s… Thursday, actually,” Ryoku replied, grimacing. “Sorry.”

Rena Rouge felt the weight in her chest ease. She ran over to Sent-Bee and threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. Soon she felt Carapace wrap his arms around both of them. “We were so worried about you, Chlo,” Rena Rouge whispered. “We had no idea where you were or if you were even alive!”

“I was… fine… sort of,” Sent-Bee whispered back, resting her head on Rena Rouge’s shoulder. “I had a plan. I knew Sabrina could find me when I needed her – which she did – but I had to stay here to get some information about Lynchpin. Which I did!”

“You realize we’ve all been worried sick, right, dude?” Carapace told her, squeezing both girls tight. “Sabrina’s been completely beside herself all week.”

At that moment, Rena Rouge jumped a meter in the air in shock: something in the depths of the building let out a thunderous roar and shook the building to its foundations. A three-meter-tall blue bear waddled out into the open, just as an explosion rocked the far side of the building. “Um, Chloe?” Rena Rouge asked, forcing her voice to remain at a calm level. “What is that?”

“You mean my senti-bear? … You didn’t do that?”

“A sentimonster…” Pegasus began, running up to the group. “But that means…” His eyes shot wide open. “We have to get back to Headquarters.”

Her mind going to the same place as Pegasus’, Rena Rouge pushed herself away from Sent-Bee and Carapace and turned to face the last two members of their group. All business she started shouting orders. “Ryoku, get the fire out! Anansi, stay here and get the prisoners away from that building – preferably _alive_ and unburned – and tie them up for the police! If she left any conscious, we need to know everything! Pegasus?”

Pegasus nodded and opened a portal before gesturing for the other three to follow him through. Rena Rouge’s last sight before stepping through the portal was of Anansi’s Spider-Bike shooting a web net over the first four prisoners that Anansi had carried out of the blown-out building and staking them to the ground.

Pegasus raced straight to the grotto, with Rena Rouge and Carapace hot on his heels and supporting Sent-Bee – whose energy was flagging as the adrenaline finally wore off – between them. Just inside the grotto they found Impératrice Pourpre passed out on her back in the grass next to Emilie Agreste’s pod. However, something was wrong. Her normally light-purple dress was instead indigo, and there was a second badge on her chest of a royal blue peacock inside a white circle, opposite the usual lavender butterfly. A blue fan lay abandoned next to her left hand. Pegasus dropped to his knees next to her and immediately pulled the Peafowl Miraculous off her chest. Blue light covered her and faded in a moment, leaving her suit the way it normally looked. Pegasus lifted her gently by the shoulders into a sitting position and supported her against his side. Carapace shifted Sent-Bee entirely onto Rena Rouge’s shoulder and moved to support Impératrice Pourpre’s other side.

Impératrice Pourpre slowly opened her eyes and blinked up at them owlishly. “M–Max?” she coughed, looking up at him and covering her mouth with one hand. She pushed herself up slightly to see the rest of the group. “Where’s Chloe? Did it work?”

“Yeah, sweetie, it worked,” Sent-Bee whispered, smiling and blinking back tears. “You got me back.”

“I can’t believe you did that, girl,” Rena Rouge commented, shaking her head. “But could you…?”

“Right.” Impératrice Pourpre closed her eyes and furrowed her brow, and Sent-Bee was bathed in yellow light which faded upwards into her hair and died out as the purified butterfly left her hair tie and fluttered away. Chloe nearly collapsed, wincing and moaning in pain, before Rena Rouge caught her and supported most of her weight. Impératrice Pourpre slumped backward without opening her eyes. “That still leaves the Amok, though,” she mumbled. Pegasus pressed the Peafowl Miraculous into her hand, and she nodded. “Nooroo, Duusu, Unify,” she murmured. A moment later, the feather separated from Chloe’s sock and returned to the fan that had appeared on the ground next to her hand. “Nooroo, Duusu, Divide. Nooroo–” she coughed weakly “–Bright wings fall.” The light around her faded, leaving Sabrina nearly passed out.

Pegasus and Carapace caught a Kwami apiece before helping Sabrina to her feet. Then Pegasus nodded, picked Sabrina up in a bridal carry, and carried her over to the elevator, both Nooroo and Duusu safely balanced on the horseshoe strapped to his back.

Chloe started to follow them toward the elevator, but Rena Rouge shook her head. “Chloe, believe me,” she told her, “I know you’re worried about Sabrina, but aren’t you forgetting something?”

“You mean like the fact that my best friend was so worried about me that she put herself in danger and _passed out_ saving my life?” Chloe retorted, struggling pushing back against Rena Rouge’s firm grip.

“No, I mean like the _reason_ your best friend was so worried she did something so uncharacteristically reckless and crazy!” Rena Rouge replied, grabbing Chloe by both shoulders and staring her in the face. “You said you waited until now to let her find you so you could get information about Lynchpin. Information that can help us stop him and get Pollen and your miraculous back. You said you have information; it would be disrespectful to Sabrina _and_ her sacrifice for you to _forget_ the information she could have _died_ for you to get!”

Chloe struggled feebly against Rena Rouge, but only for a moment before she collapsed to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Rena Rouge de-transformed, knelt next to her, and pulled Chloe into a gentle hug, guiding Chloe’s forehead to rest against her shoulder. “I know you want to see for yourself that she’s okay, but we need that information,” she whispered. “Max will take good care of her.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Alya watched Trixx fly over to Carapace, who held a whispered conversation with the Kwami before walking over to the Miracle Box. Alya helped Chloe to her feet and steered her out of the grotto and into her alcove.

“Lynchpin has at least two miraculous now,” Chloe reported woodenly, not resisting Alya’s guidance. “He’s putting together a miraculous team to counter ours. When he was talking about the miraculous, he said the other one had something to do with water. He thought it was funny; he uses the river for something else, too. All his questions had to do with the Heroes of Paris; he didn’t ask me anything about Adrien or Marinette, just about the identities of the heroes, how they communicate, where our base it, and the like. But I didn’t give him anything. His target – or at least one of them – is _us_ , the Heroes of Paris specifically.”

Alya nodded. “You did good, Chlo,” she told her, hugging her shoulders carefully. “That confirms that the other miraculous holder Viperion and Ryoku encountered has joined Lynchpin. And it gives us a little more to think about… But first, let’s get upstairs so we can check on Sabrina.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sabrina woke up slowly, her first conscious thought that the grass in the grotto was far more comfortable than she had realized. Her head ached and throbbed worse than it had all week. She tried lifting her hand to rub her forehead, but her arms felt sluggish and her hands wouldn’t move. Slowly she opened her eyes.

She was lying in an unfamiliar bed in a room whose décor she vaguely recognized. Across the room she saw the all-too-familiar portrait of Adrien’s family that had hung in the Agreste Mansion’s front entryway for years. She was in one of the mansion’s unused back bedrooms. That explained the softness of the bed and sheets, almost like lying inside a cloud.

Dimly she was aware of a light weight on her chest. She lifted her head slightly to see six Kwamis curled up together in a disjointed mass. Looking closer, she realized that Nooroo and Duusu were lying on their sides facing away from each other, with Wayzz and another Kwami she didn’t know sitting between them, resting one hand each on Nooroo’s and Duusu’s heads. Kaalki and Trixx were holding armfuls of cookies next to Nooroo and Duusu respectively. Nooroo, who was closest to Sabrina’s head, was shivering and breathing raggedly, his eyes closed and a look of discomfort in his face.

“I’m so sorry, Nooroo,” Sabrina whispered, sniffling back a tear. Perhaps she only imagined it, but the Kwami’s breathing eased the slightest bit.

Sabrina felt a slight pressure on her right hand and glanced over to find Max looking at her. He gave her a small smile, and she felt heat building in her cheeks. “I am glad to see you awake,” he told her softly. “The others will be relieved.”

“How long…?”

“You slept for approximately four hours,” he answered. He nodded to the chair on the other side of the bed, where Chloe sat holding Sabrina’s other hand, her head resting on her arms on the bed. “Chloe refused a bed and has hardly left your side; Alya had to threaten her before she would even get up to use the bathroom and shower. She needed medical attention but refused to seek it anywhere else, so Anansi patched her up here.”

Sabrina gave him a questioning look.

“Your Akuma only masked her injuries temporarily,” he explained. “I am sure you intended it to heal her fully, but it was unable to do so. Once you removed the Akuma, her injuries returned. All the same, it was a reasonable tradeoff to make.”

Sabrina nodded, but winced against her headache. “Nooroo?” she asked next.

“He will recover in time,” Max replied, inclining his head toward the Kwamis. “Trixx asked Nino to activate the Dog Miraculous so that Barkk could siphon some of the imbalanced energy out of Nooroo and back to Duusu. Barkk is the Kwami of Loyalty, and that is one of her other abilities, in conjunction with Wayzz. According to Trixx, Tikki and Plagg would be able to rectify the situation much faster, but this is what they have available.”

Sabrina furrowed her brow and stared at him in confusion.

He chuckled quietly. “I do not understand it either, but the Kwamis insisted that they would take care of their own.”

“I hope Nooroo can forgive me,” Sabrina whispered, turning back to look at the Kwamis.

Kaalki floated over and put a paw on Sabrina’s cheek gently. “He understands why you did what you did,” she told her. “He wouldn’t have told you it was possible if he wasn’t willing to accept your choice if you did it, or deal with this outcome. He won’t hold this against you.”

Sabrina nodded, but couldn’t help the tears that started running down her cheeks.

Max squeezed her hand, gave her a sympathetic look, and stood up. “I will go and inform Alya and Nino that you are awake,” he stated, smiling and releasing her hand. He slipped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

Sabrina glanced over at Chloe and squeezed her hand. Chloe jerked awake suddenly, sitting back and nearly falling off her chair.

“Huh? Wha–?” Chloe mumbled blearily, lifting her free arm to shield her face and blinking slowly without really looking at Sabrina.

“You’re safe,” Sabrina said, squeezing her hand again. “We got you out.”

Chloe finally turned and looked at her, dropping her arm awkwardly to land on the bed. “You did,” Chloe agreed, leaning back in the chair, “and just in time, too. I think this time I _really_ made someone angry.”

“Worse than that time you spilled soy sauce on Adrien’s favorite manga?” Sabrina raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, God,” Chloe moaned, putting her other hand up to her mouth, “I thought he was never going to speak to me ever again after that!” She giggled. “And I’m pretty sure this was _worse_!”

“Wow. That’s… I’m glad you’re back safe.”

“I’m sorry I worried you so much.” Chloe was quiet for a minute. “I could have, you know. I could have let you find me right away: I knew that if I let myself feel all the emotions I was bottling up inside, all at the same time, you would be able to find me.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I thought this would give me a chance to learn more about Lynchpin,” explained Chloe. “I–I lost Pollen and I wanted to get her back. I did find out a couple things. Alya’s already looking into some of it, so it wasn’t a total waste. But I really wanted to get my miraculous back. For now, though, it’s gone. Lynchpin has it.” She was quiet. “I still can’t believe she’s gone,” she finally whispered. Sabrina pretended not to see the tears pooling in her eyes

“I’m sorry.”

“No, _I_ ’m sorry,” Chloe insisted. “I’m sorry I told everyone who I was – he said that’s how he got me, you know. I’m sorry it’s my fault that my miraculous is gone and Pollen is going to go to someone who will abuse her and–”

“It is _not_ your fault,” Sabrina told her, squeezing her hand. “ _Lynchpin_ abducted you. _Lynchpin_ stole your miraculous. You fought back the best way you could.”

“Still,” Chloe began, “I’m sorry I worried you so much you did something stupid.”

“Normally stupid’s _your_ job!” Sabrina giggled, but it turned into a coughing fit partway through. She found a glass of water on the nightstand. “Just send me a signal next time, something to let me know where you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe promised, smirking. “ _If_ there’s a next time, I’ll make my emotions nice and obvious so you can find me, even if I don’t let you ‘rescue’ me right away. Max did also say he’s working on some sort of tracker for all of us to wear, just in case.”

Sabrina nodded. “That sounds like him.”

“So speaking of…” Chloe was silent for a minute. “What’s going on with you two?”

“I’m not sure.” Sabrina shrugged. “While we were searching for you, the two of us were working together a lot at Headquarters while Alya was off running around the city, and it just sort of… happened. I needed someone to talk to, and he understood me. I was worried, and he comforted me. Now? I don’t know.”

Chloe smiled fondly. “It’s sweet how concerned he was about you,” she observed.

“Yeah,” Sabrina agreed. She sighed and fell back into the pillows. With her free hand she reached out to find Nooroo. Feeling his weight in her palm, she lifted him up to her face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, blinking away tears. “I’m no better than Hawk Moth, am I?”

Nooroo’s wings fluttered weakly. “That could never be the case, Sabrina,” he whispered hoarsely. “You are not Hawk Moth, abusing my power to hurt others. You are Impératrice Pourpre, and you help people. And I trust you not to hurt me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, fighting back a sob. “Are you… better?”

He shook his head. “This will not be a quick process, Mistress,” he explained. “This session has helped, but Duusu and I will require several such sessions. For now…”

“Alya thinks it’s best to stay here until both of us are well,” Chloe supplied. “She and Nino think it’s best to keep this quiet. No one outside the Heroes needs to know.”

“Fine by me,” Sabrina commented, closing her eyes. “I feel like I could sleep for another month.”

“I don’t think my body has quite caught up to what _day_ it is yet!” Chloe replied. Sabrina felt her mood change. “All the same… I need to find Pollen.”

Sabrina squeezed her hand. “You will,” she assured her. “When you’re ready. For now, you need to recover. We _both_ need to recover.”

“Yeah… I probably should find a bed somewhere… they’ve got enough of them.” Chloe yawned. “I should let you rest, too. I’m glad you’re okay after that.”

Sabrina nodded and released her hand. “I’m glad you’re safe, too. You’re my best friend, and nothing will ever change that.”


End file.
